Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

What We Face Raising Children That Our Parents Did Not

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I sat with my five year old in a doctor’s office waiting room, and as she handed me her pink, VTech camera to go play with a plastic, farm house I smiled. I looked across from me and saw a young boy around her age happily enthralled with an electronic tablet, his mother with head bent focusing on her phone. The pull to grab mine out of my purse was there. I looked back to my daughter as she returned to me, already bored with the barn, and she reached quickly for her camera. It didn’t just take pictures. It had filters, voice modulators, and tons of games too.

Just as quickly I suggested, “how about I read you a book?” Then I pointed at the books along the wall.

I smiled victoriously as she picked out one of my favorites by Dr. Seuss, but that seemed short-lived as we later left the doctor’s office. I grimaced as I watched my child blindly go forward in the parking lot, her eyes glued to an “educational” game on her kiddy device.

This. This was a struggle unique to our generation, and one that would probably only grow more difficult for future ones. I was a mom maneuvering my way through a technological age. On one hand I was blessed to have the opportunities to teach my children easier, but on the other I struggled with finding the balance for them, a balance that even adults struggled with.

A couple of months ago I had given my seven and five year olds our old cell phones. They didn’t have cell service on them, nor social media. So basically they were snazzy cameras and a way to watch videos or play games on WiFi, but still. But still, I watched them become absorbed into the devices. Even though we limited their time on them, they seemed to always be asking for them. We ended up making the phones conveniently disappear, and as I watched my daughter try and record YouTube videos with her VTech, walking unaware into traffic, I figured the same needed to happen with the pink camera. They just weren’t at a maturity level to deal with the pull technology took on their little brains. Even as a forty year old woman I had to tell myself to shut off my Facebook and put mine down at times. Just being honest.

My parents didn’t have to worry with this sort of thing! When I was five I remember being quite taken with a cassette recorder, but when given the opportunity I would have rather been in the pool. When I was around eleven or twelve I was indeed obsessed with my Nintendo, Friday the 13th game, but I also would spend sunup to sundown running through the woods. I loved me some Saturday morning cartoons, but otherwise I was mending frogs, riding the tires off my bike, and having sleepovers with my buddies where we actually talked verbally to one another instead of Snapping photos back and forth. I experienced cliques and bullying in high school, for sure, but there’s many a day I thank the Lord that social media didn’t exist when I was a teen. The level of cruelty and malevolence that can take place behind the safety of a screen is unparalleled. My parents didn’t have to deal with this, and many days I wish I didn’t either.

As a mom today you’re torn between utilizing the positive attributes of technology, or wanting to bury every single cell phone, iPad, and laptop, and go off the grid. I mean, you have to admit that a DVD player in the minivan is handy on a seven hour road trip, and for supermarket meltdowns nothing saves your sanity like a Surprise Egg video, but then you have to admit too that it’s a slippery slope not letting technology be your babysitter. Sometimes it’s easier to let your teen get on social media and socialize with her friends rather than deal with the moody brooding, but the zombie look in her eyes as her fingers swiftly move across the screen makes you wonder, can this be a good thing?!!

So here I am trying my best. I’m trying to figure out when to tell my teenage stepdaughter to put the phone away even though “all her friends are doing it,” and when to keep it out of my young daughters’ hands as much as possible. I’m fighting to not let the convenience of technology steal my parenting from me. I’m trying to be a better example by letting go of the things that keep me distracted and on my phone when they need me.

It’s not always easy to see the lines. I remember when I was a kid my friend’s mom worried we would catch AIDS from mosquitoes (an unnecessary concern). Today you have to worry about your twelve year old running off with a sexual predator she met online (a legitimate concern, even if you don’t want to admit it). My folks worried about me sneaking out my window, and I remember my dad nailing it shut. Today we search our kids’ browser history, but just like I figured out a way to get outside unknown, so do kids today. Nowadays, though, it just so happens they can get into plenty of trouble right in their own room, from their unsupervised screen time.

We are in a new realm of parenting. It’s foreign, uncharted territory, and it’s scary. Now, more than ever, we need to be praying for guidance as we lead our children through a technological world that tries to harm them. Now, more than ever, we need to be listening to the Lord’s leading for our families, and listening to our children’s silent cries for help in a world where real social interaction and active play elude them. We need to be the advocates for our children in a confusing, distracting world. We need to be the anchor that keeps them balanced in a social media world that tries to carry them away in a fictional cloud of what’s important. We need to be the compass that guides them to what really matters, like face-to-face relationships, and teaches them that kindness can still prevail in a trolling, keyboard-warrior world.

We have our work cut out for us, parents, but I believe we can do it. So sure, if you want to share this with your friends, do, but then put your phone down! Pick up a book, pull your kid into your lap, before it’s too late, and dive back in time to a world before cells phones and social media guided our existence.

When God Has You in a Waiting Place

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If you’re living and breathing then you will likely at some point or another find yourself in a waiting place. Perhaps you’re there now. But did you know God had you there? After all, He is the one who placed the desire in your heart for that long awaited station you cannot seem to get to quick enough. We all know that God’s timing is perfect. We’ve heard it a billion times! But it doesn’t make the attitude of waiting any easier, does it? Waiting still stinks.

I’ve found myself in a waiting place lately. On one hand, I’ve never felt such peace. To have a calling, or a dream, and to have that excitement is refreshing. It’s like, if I can just get there, I’ll be good. So the waiting for something great is still better than feeling lackluster stuck in a situation that no longer brings you joy. Over time, though, that excitement builds (or perhaps threatens to dull), and you find the anticipation brings an impatient longing.

When, Lord? When will we get from Point A to Point B?!

So everyday you pray.

Please, Lord. Please get us there.

You pray from a place of faith always, but you also recognize it’s this pleading petition that borders on the brink of worry. It’s this repetitive prayer, that while persistent in a positive way, also sounds a little whiny even to you. Am I right? It kinda reminds you of the kids asking if it’s Christmas yet.

So what do you do when God has you in a waiting place, and you know that the waiting is good, but it’s still simply and honestly hard to wait?!

I’ve heard you surrender the situation, and I’ll bet you’ve probably heard that one too. You lay down the task of waiting, and you say, “God, I know you’re timing is perfect, so I’m laying it down to you.” But what exactly are we laying down?

Today my husband sent me a text of a prayer he was praying. Technology, right? We were joining together in prayer via text, and I wrote back to him my agreement with him, directed to the Lord. But one phrase in his text really stuck out to me. Like, it might as well have been in bold letters.

He said, “I let go of any anticipation I have for where you’re taking my family.”

He mentioned letting go of control too, but that one other word really got me.

Anticipation

He was willing to let go of the one thing that made waiting easier! I mean, that’s what makes waiting bearable, right? The prize at the end. It’s like pregnancy and childbirth. Women can deal with the horrendous ordeal of it all because of the baby that comes at the end. Swollen feet, heartburn, and the ring of Fire in your nether region is minuscule when compared to a little life with your tiny, upturned nose. Anticipation for the end result made waiting seem not quite so bad, but my husband was giving that to God as well.

So I followed suit, and as I sat on my knees praying to the Lord I let go of even my excitement. After all, He was the one who placed it there. He placed the desire for a new dream in my heart. It was His. He placed a calling on the lives of His children, and if I was going to surrender the situation in its entirety then I even needed to give my heart’s desire into His hand. I let go of my anticipation, which can often times lead to a nervous, impatient energy, and simply rested in the truth of His word.

Jeremiah 29:11

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Daddy, Are We Lost?

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As we drove down the dark highway last night on our way to a beach getaway I noticed my husband reach his hand into the backseat from his driver’s seat perch. He patted the small leg of our four year old daughter, a reassuring, love-filled pat. Then he looked over at me in the passenger seat and commented on something I hadn’t even noticed. 

“She’s scared,” he said. 

“Surely not,” I answered, but then directed my attention to her. “Are you okay, sweetie?” I asked. 

“Daddy, are we lost?” She asked, with a quiver to her voice. 

It turns out she was very frightened. She didn’t recognize our surroundings, it was dark outside, and she couldn’t see what lay ahead. And the crazy part is that even as we explained the facts she still remained hesitant. I told her we knew where we were going, and then I went a step further showing her the GPS directions displayed on my phone. She understood what I was saying, and she knew we had never gotten lost before, yet as she settled back against her seat I could still see she was on edge. She trusted her daddy more than anything, yet she was still afraid. She couldn’t see the beach up ahead; all she saw was darkness pressing in. 

How familiar her reaction was to me. After all, how often did I react the same? 

Matthew 6:26

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

In my own life I could worry about finances, yet hadn’t God always provided for us since we began to serve Him? Didn’t I worry for my children even though the Lord protected them on a daily basis? Even as He led me to new things in my life didn’t I worry over how we would get from Point A to Point B? His Word of truth, like a GPS for life, showed me brightly the direction to go, yet didn’t I still lose my way? I stressed needlessly, even though I didn’t want to, yet He always guided us through the desert places. His mercies never failed, but how often did I see the darkness of this world press in around me, fear the unknown, and whisper to my Daddy, is this really where you want me? Are we lost?

Always in my moments of unwarranted and unwanted doubt my Father was faithful to reassure me, and reaching out with the power of His Holy Spirit He would pat my heart lovingly to let me know I was not alone. Even when I felt small, uncertain, and scared He held the wheel straight and true. He patiently loved me through my fear, a smile on His lips as He took me beyond and to the places ahead I could not quite see. 

Daddy, are we lost?

Never, my child. 

Did You Hear Me, God?

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The other night I lay down exhausted, and before I fell asleep I began to pray. In fact, I’m pretty sure I fell asleep praying, but I guess there’s really no better way to drift off. I do recall distinctly, though, before succumbing to the sandman asking God for two things. 

As I lay down on my comfy, new mattress I still winced before turning on my side. Is this what forty is like, I wondered; before asking for healing, that is. That morning I had been making my bed, and as I briskly pulled the quilt upward I felt a sharp twinge of pain in my lower back. Ouch! How embarrassing to injure oneself in such a manner, and all day I had assumed the ache would go away, yet as I lay in bed it seemed to be all I could feel and think about. Hence my first bedtime prayer. 

“Please heal my back, Lord,” I prayed. “Let the pain be completely gone when I wake up! In Jesus name.”

I boldly believed, and as I felt myself drifting away I thanked God for the things in my life, my husband, my children, His provision, and salvation, but I also prayed for a problem I had on occasion. Bad dreams. 

“Lord, I pray for good dreams. Let my dreams be from you,” I petitioned. Then I took it a step further. “May they be prophetic dreams.”

I fell asleep with a contented grin, but when I woke some seven hours later it wasn’t a smile upon my face. My eyes blinked groggily on the tale end of a nighttime picture-show, the strange, unwarranted dream still fresh in my brain, and it could only be described with one word. Bad. I had dreamed a bad dream. 

I sat up quickly and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Immediately I noticed the surge of pain present in my back. It was worse than yesterday. Way worse! It hadn’t healed overnight at all. In that moment I almost wanted to ask, “did you hear me, God,” but even in my downtrodden thoughts I only spoke one thing. Faith. 

“I still trust you, God,” I silently prayed. “No matter what, I trust you.”

Then I got up out of bed, pushing the back pain to the recesses of my mind, as much as I physically could anyway. I did mention it to my husband as we stood together at the coffee maker, but more to hear his thoughts than to complain. 

“It will be healed,” he said, as if it had already been done, and I readily agreed. 

“I know,” I said, kissing his cheek, and that was the last I thought of my back until later in the evening. 

It was a Tuesday, and Tuesdays were our busy days. Homeschool group, a softball double-header, and all the other things I was responsible for in a given day. We rushed about, doing our thing, and it wasn’t until later that night, fixing my dinner plate, that something unusual occurred to me. 

My back doesn’t hurt, I thought in surprise, and then I realized it had not bothered me since I told God that I trusted Him, no matter what. When I woke up the pain had been excruciating, and how it had gone from a solid eight to a zero was pretty darn cool. Plus there’s only been good dreams the past two night. I guess He heard me after all. 

The Mission Field Most Unvisited 

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When I was twenty years old I was an honest to goodness missionary. Or I felt like one anyway. I lived and learned overseas for almost a year. I traveled through the interior of South America by hollowed-out log, passing out toys to wide-eyed children who had never seen a white person, and telling unreached people groups about Jesus. I survived on funds I had raised through friends and family who supported my cause.  I used wet wipes to clean myself when we stayed in river villages where the water was too treacherous to bathe in. Heck, I didn’t even shave my legs for like five months at one point. I watched my host suffer through malaria. I sat on a log in the middle of the jungle talking with a Muslim man about why I was fasting. But most importantly, I loved on people. So many people. 


When my time in Guyana was complete, and my discipleship training came to an end, I watched my fellow missionaries share their next step. So many had been called to foreign mission fields, to spread the gospel to those who had never heard it, and to survive on faith and friend-raising. I was happy for them, but honestly, perhaps a little questioning of myself. Despite my feeling that I too should desire to do grand yet difficult adventures, the fact was I did not feel called to some foreign land to share about Jesus. I just didn’t.

 

Yesterday morning my husband shared a text message he had received from a young man who used to work for him. I had always enjoyed watching their relationship blossom. My husband was the type of man who was quiet yet kind. He didn’t speak loudly for all to hear, but when he spoke you knew it was important and packed with wisdom. He had a big heart. That was what drew me to him. Subsequently it drew others as well. People enjoyed to be around him, once they got to know him, and he used that gift in good ways, never taking it for granted. He spoke friendly to strangers always, and he shared a wealth of information to those around him, but he did it in a comfortable way that made you feel like you were sharing with a good friend, not being preached at. He had a gift for cultivating relationships, and then teaching and mentoring them based on his personal walk with the Lord. 

Tears came to my eyes as I read the text from his former “work son” who was now making his way in the world. He spoke of how much he missed their talks, and the life lessons and conversations on faith. He let him know that he thought frequently about the things my husband had shared, and he used the advice daily. I cried with pride and thanksgiving to serve on the daily mission field of life with a man who showed people Jesus by showing them his heart. His life was his witness, his humility a welcome home sign, and he took every single opportunity and interaction that came his way as a chance to be the hands and feet of Christ. He was one of the best missionaries I knew. 

Twenty years ago when I was faced with the decision of whether to come back to the United States or stay on the foreign mission field I knew in my heart where God was leading me. He was leading me not just back home, but to one of the most unvisited mission fields out there. Daily life. The fact is you don’t have to get on a plane and go around the world to tell people about Jesus, and we all know that, yet when it comes to sharing Christ with our neighbor we’re hesitant. It’s not just about inviting a buddy to church on Sunday. It’s actually about being the church. We are all, as believers, temples of the Holy Spirit. God lives in us, and our job is to pour that out on those around us. You don’t have to hand out tracts or have a Bible study on the job site. It starts simply with being love, showing that love, and creating relationships out of love. God seems to open up doors for all the rest of it. 

Mark 16:15

He said to them, “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.

This is the verse that comes to mind when we think of missions, but more often we also think of traveling to fulfill this verse. I consider this verse a calling, but it’s not just a calling to go to some distant mission field. The words “all the world” also mean next door, at work, or in line at the grocery store. We are called to preach the gospel by our daily interaction with every person we meet. So when it says “all creation” it even means the people who disagree with you, don’t think the same way as you, or live a different lifestyle than you. It starts with a smile, it continues with an example, and it comes to fulfillment through relationship. Just honest to goodness loving on people. Lots of people. 

Do You Find Yourself in the Wilderness? 

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Do you currently find yourself in the wilderness?

You’re in good company. 


The past six months of my life have been different from the previous few years. For many years now I’ve found myself traveling through lush pastures with flowing springs. I have found a contentment, joy, and abundant life living with Christ. I have enjoyed my children, my husband, and our many, many blessings over the past few years. I enjoy those things still, but I’ve found myself clinging tightly to them and my faith in Jesus as I pass through a desert place in life. I want to face palm at past me wondering why other people can’t find peace in life. As I sashayed through flowery fields I wondered why everyone could not smell the roses like me. Talk about a humbling fall. 

So I feel like the past couple of months especially I’ve been transversing through a bit of a dry spell, a valley, if you will. I’ve felt lonely at times, as if I had to really strain to hear God’s voice. It’s been a trying time with many attacks from Satan, and though my husband and I have grown even closer through it, and our faith has strengthened, I’d be lying if I said it was fun. It’s not. The wilderness is never a carefree, enjoyable time. Sure there’s always the joy that comes with being a child of God, but sometimes that’s shadowed by how difficult it is to walk through a storm in life. 

The weird thing about walking through a valley is how it seems up and down. It’s like, sometimes you catch a glimpse of the mountain, it gives you that extra burst of adrenaline, and you walk a little faster with your head held high. Other days you wake up and you feel like a Farside cartoon, just dry bones stretched out across the harsh desert floor. Today I found myself in a funk, and wishing to reignite my spirit with hope I dug into God’s word. I’ve been reading through the Gospels lately, and when I began reading Mark these verses leapt off the page 

Mark 1 (NIV)

12 At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, 13 and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted[a] by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.

What I love about scripture is how it can speak to you at different times in your life, and though I’ve read this before, today I noticed something I had not in prior reading. Here in the beginning of Mark we see Jesus being baptized by his cousin, John. We have all imagined how it must have been when the skies opened and God spoke, “you are my son whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”

Wow. That is awesome. God speaks to His son and tells Him how proud He is. But check out that verse right after. 

At once the spirit sent him out into the wilderness. 

It hit me like a ton of bricks today! I have felt like I’m in the wilderness, but I’m in good company. If God sent His own son into the wilderness to be tempted, this son in whom He was well pleased, then shouldn’t I be grateful that I find myself in the same kind of place? God leads us to the places where we might grow best to know Him, and really that’s what I’ve been praying for many years. You can’t stay in the green pastures and grow deeper with God. You have to walk in the wilderness so He can give you His strength. That’s where His angels will attend to us, and as Satan attacks that is where we will grow in faith and a deeper relationship with the Lord. 

I can’t explain the change in my spirit after being reminded of something so simple. It’s hard to see the hand of Jesus when you’re away from the shore. When the rains pelt down and blur your vision it’s difficult to see Him standing on the water. Yet there He stands, calling us to His side, ready to calm the skies at the sound of His voice. 

So, do you find yourself in the wilderness today?

Just remember, you’re in good company. 

I’m Grateful to Walk Through Fire With You

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This morning I rushed about before I headed out the door to work, and as I stood yearningly before the coffee maker I glimpsed a small note. I had always left small love notes for my husband to find when he visited the coffee pot after me, and this particular sticky was a leftover from a previous work day. Although I had written it a week ago, in the midst of a trial, it didn’t hit me how true it was until today. 

For over a month I had felt like our family was being hit hard with different problems. We had suffered through everything from lawsuits to palpitations, and fear of job loss to heart problems with our middle daughter. It had already been a stressful time, and I had watched it take a toil on my husband. When asked he would say he was fine, but I could tell by the look on his face that it weighed heavy on him. I think when you love someone so intimately you can just tell. I had been praying for him, but it wasn’t until the past week that I personally began to quake under the weight of the different stressors and unexpected trials we were enduring. 

It seemed as if each day brought another bit of bad news, and after about day five I collapsed. Not physically, per se, but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually I fell flat on my face. And as much as I tried to push the worry away, I could not. It became more than I could bear, and after crying for the third time one day I reached out to my husband. I told him exactly how I was feeling, and he shared his mirrored emotions. 

Later that night we talked for hours. We prayed together, prayed for one another, and let no word go unsaid between us. We talked about the future and the plans God had for us. We discussed the spiritual battlefield we faced as God moved us forward, and we shared proclamations of our faith, even though we had felt very weak as of late. 

As I sat on the couch that night a strange feeling came over me, and I recognized it as peace, but it was accompanied by gratitude. I realized my husband had been waging war for our family the better part of a month. He had been absorbing God’s word and strength through scripture and the Holy Spirit, but his battle wounds had also been noticed by me. I loved him more than anything in this world, and I realized at that moment that I was grateful to be able to share with him the trials he was walking through for our family and future. 

“I’m grateful to being going through this with you,” I had said. 

He had nodded agreement. He got it. Neither one of us was excited about the struggles we had faced lately, but if we had to go through it then it was best done together. God had put us together for a reason. We felt like He had big plans for us and for His kingdom, but the trek from one plain of greatness to the next is often a hard walk. We were grateful to make the journey together with God leading the way. 

The following morning I had worked, and for the first time in a week I woke up hopeful again for my day. I still felt the fuzzy edges of the hard trial I had transversed, but it was getting better. I was still weary, but not as weak. I was shaken, but not broken. And as I poured my coffee, before heading out the door, I had penned these words to my husband. 

I’m grateful to walk through fire with you. 


So when I saw the note again this morning it struck me how relevant and raw was my revelation. We had been through a Refiner’s Fire. Maybe, even, we weren’t done yet. But we had walked hand in hand, faith intact. Not only had it made us stronger individually, but also stronger as a couple. When I looked at his face, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and how his countenance shown with the light of Christ, I always loved him immensely. But something about walking through fire with him made me love him even more. It was like the heat had forged the commitment deeper into our very souls, and when I looked at him now I felt not just love, but honored to live life by his side. 

Is that what they mean by fireproof?

I Can Still Praise God Through Tears

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I recently stood in the congregation of my small church with racking sobs pouring out of me. My hands covered my face as I wailed, and although I felt awful, it also felt good to let it all out. It was like the small, spring shower that had started at the beginning of the week had just continued to pour, and by Sunday I was swept away in the torrent that flooded my soul. And although I held tightly to my faith through the storm, the pelting rain still caused me pain. That pain emitted from me in the way of hot tears coursing down my cheeks and falling on my chest. 

It wasn’t any single issue on its own, but rather the conglomeration of so many small hits that tried to take me over. Health scares, financial worries, job scares, and seeing things you had put so much work into be ripped right out from underneath you. So something as seemingly simple as a Facebook hacker stealing my account could actually equate to years of investing into my writing and garnering blog followers across the world being gone in an instant. Tons of invested time in my Rodan + Fields business forever erased. Customers lost, readers gone, and friends leery to reconnect with me. I felt silly about being upset over a social media account, even if it did provide financially for my family, but I also realized that this was just the final straw that was breaking the camel’s back. So I wept. 

There’s no way I could contain in one blog post all the many things God has spoken to my heart in the past four or five days. It would likely be a jumbled mess if I tried. But I do know that through all my grief over my recent trials I have held close to Him. I do know that Satan desires to separate us from relationship with the Lord, and that has been something I have not let him do. I have held fast to my faith even when I don’t understand, and I have thanked Him for the many things He is teaching me through it all. I’ve held tightly to the promises written in His word, and accepted the things I cannot change. 

I’ve professed that if it’s not from God then I don’t want it, and that I desire to be humble and a servant of my King no matter what. I’ve rested in the fact that He cares for me, and that even when I cannot see the end of my trials or a solution to my problems that He is faithful to walk me through it. So although tears may fall from my face, my heart rejoices for the one who counts every single one. 

His promises are true.


My issues are small when compared to that of others, and the very big things God has taken care of for us. Yet that doesn’t always make you feel better in the midst of an issue. I would imagine, though, if it’s important to me then it’s important to God. He’s that kind of Father, and He doesn’t go around grading who needs His help and comfort the most. I’m grateful for a big God who can handle the most difficult of needs and find solutions when there is no way in the natural, but also that He is personal enough to see the most tiny, insignificant parts of me. 

The best part, I suppose, is that I know I’m good regardless. No matter what the outcome, if a solution comes, or even if one does not, I know that God has His hand on it. What the devil means for harm my God works for good, and He is a God of ultimate restoration. I’m resting in that. I may still grieve some circumstances, and I may fall to moments of anxiety or worry, but I never doubt that He is in control through it all. 

Embracing the Season

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I stood at the sink scrubbing dried cheese off a baking sheet. A smile played across my lips as I rinsed this very last dish, and thoughts of what to do for supper flitted through my mind. The baby napped, the dog slept protectively by the patio door, and I could hear my two eldest daughters in the next room chatting together. I was sure they were one moment from having an argument, the baby was likely a second away from waking, and the dog was probably dreaming about chasing off the mailman and eating my packages. But still I smiled. 

I was made for this season of life. 

Worship music played from my charging phone, I stood barefoot at the sink on a somewhat clean floor, and I felt overcome by joy at the obviously mundane. I was content as I cleaned, and although some days (make that most days) I teetered on feeling mildly insane, I truly was happy with the gig of motherhood and homemaker. 

I had gotten called off from working at the bedside as a Registered Nurse, and though I’d miss the pay, I thought of no place I’d rather be than home. Even though I loved nursing and serving others through that vocation, my heart belonged to serving my family during this season. 

I was made for such a season as this. 

Playing out by the pool. Making a breakfast of eggs and pancakes. Reading library books together. Kissing booboos and praying for my family. Pretending to be the queen of the mermaids, and even trying to insert life lessons along the way. It was just some of the things my day had held. 

There was something about serving my family, teaching them, and simply just looking at them play that made me feel like a part of me was finally complete. So many days held unique challenges, and on the especially hard days I wondered if I was doing well, but above all I felt a peace that I was doing exactly what the Lord had led me to do. When I watched my four year old laugh as she played, held a baby close while I rocked her to sleep, or got lost in my six year old’s blue eyes I was certain of one simple thing. 


I was made for this. 

So no matter how challenging, how difficult, how heartbreaking, or even frustrating, I know God placed me right here, right now, with a grand purpose to care for and help shape and mold my children for His glory. To lead them with humility, to serve my husband with love, and to accept the lessons the Lord taught me along the way. 

I can think of no greater service than this. Along the way I cared for patients at the hospital hopefully helping make their lives a little better, and I shared it all with strangers across the world, hoping to inspire others with my words. I lead a team of entrepreneurs, and I tried to help my family and friends in love. But above all I tried to remember that each day I lived I could lead my children closer to knowing Jesus. 

I was made for that. 

I Can Still Cry as a Christian

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I found myself feeling rather odd. I smiled at my tiny, fragile daughter, and I patted her head as I walked past her in the kitchen. 

Everything is ok. God’s got this!

That’s what I told myself, and I really believed it was true. Yet…

I still felt like I wanted to cry. I thought about how whenever she experienced a little tummy bug or other illness how her lips would become frighteningly blue, her skin pale, and I would worry about her losing a pound. After all, she didn’t have much to lose!

There it was again, that feeling of emotion wanting to take me over. It crept up from my chest, into my throat, and sat there like a hard lump. I believed God was in control. I believed in healing, and I believed in miracles. But above all I trusted Him in every aspect of my life no matter what. Even in the case of my daughter having a potential, serious heart problem. 

And there it was again. The feeling like I might cry. It was only worsened when I reached out to friends and family for prayer. 

Weren’t you supposed to feel better when you asked for prayer?

And there it was when I heard my phone chime an incoming text. I knew it was him. I knew it was about that. I knew my husband that well. Yet even as his words gave me strength, support, and comfort I still wanted to cry. 

I don’t want you to be worried she is going to be ok. God knew about this before she was born and He has a purpose for her life. He has never not come to our rescue ? God is good and everything He has made and does is Good. I love you baby ? I’ll see you tonight.

As I searched the internet I especially felt the hot tears press against my eyes, begging to be released. I read the symptoms of congenital heart disease and murmurs, and I asked myself, “why in the world would you go to Google for this?!”

So I exited out of sites like WebMD, and I entered into the Bible app instead. But as I read the scriptures and truths of how He held us in His hand I still wanted to cry. 

I was worried, yes. Even as I cast my anxieties on Him. 

I was concerned about my daughter, even as I praised Him in thanksgiving for the many healing miracles I had witnessed in my time. 

I was emotional even as I believed that yes, God’s indeed got this! I knew He had it, but I still wanted to cry a little. I figured my Father in Heaven understood that. 

She was His too, you know. He knew her before He formed her, and although my mind was overcome with the plans He had for me as her mom, I could rest a little easier that He had plans for her too. He always had a way of turning things out for our good. 

Friday we’ll go for an echo of my precious, little star, and I trust Jesus for the outcome. I might just cry a little between now and then, though; yet my God is faithful to wipe away my tears. I reckon it’s ok to cry when you let your Dad count them and put them in a bottle, and when His shoulder is the one on which you weep. 

Psalm 121:3-8 ESV 

He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. …

Psalm 91:1-16 ESV 
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler. You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, …