My older sister sent me a Marketplace link the night before my 15th wedding anniversary.

I happily sent an e-transfer and drove a 60-minute round trip to pick up a sizeable wood-framed wall sign from “the back porch with the Christmas lights.”

That same night my husband measured and nailed the sign into a spot that had been waiting for something meaningful for almost four years.

It showcases a bold statement ‘blessed’ in scrolly letters, and I didn't see the deeper meaning until weeks later.

If the faith my dad preached, while laying in a hospital bed, is not based on a fairy tale, then maybe with each new year, each new birthday, and each new Christmas, we can experience “a thrill of hope” as our weary souls rejoice in what is to come!

The sun was climbing out of bed on the continent of South America as my earbuds delivered these words:

"Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.” Mark 1:35 NIV

My reflex was an audible "yes" with a fist grab right there in the hotel bathroom, followed by a bashful giggle as I told my husband.

Long ministry days, which excluded even the opportunity for a full night of sleep, were wearing on my introverted nature.

Even though I grew up at church, there were seasons in my life when I read a lot about Christian themes but didn’t open my Bible consistently!

Devotionals and Christian-living books too easily took the place of Bible reading and study.

Sure, I’d open it for a feel-good verse or a specific passage for a card but I was not experiencing the richness of Scripture in context or seeing how the Bigger Story reveals God's character!

I wish I could call my dad, like I did every day when he was in the hospital, and talk our way through all of this—cancer, suffering, death.
But this is the mystery Bill Johnson spoke about just days after his wife’s passing. My dad’s childlike faith and trust right up until his final breath revealed how he understood his identity in Christ. He didn’t need answers, even though it hurt him deeply to leave so soon, he knew there was a bigger story at play.

There was chai tea, turkey buns, pies, games, and a campfire on that perfect fall day.

At this covid-friendly, outdoor, family Thanksgiving we'd never guess that six weeks later our dad/grandpa/husband would be fighting leukemia.

Through my dad’s cancer journey this winter I held on to the hope of visiting with him around campfires this summer.

Now, grief has me longing for those first seconds after waking, when it is all just a bad dream.

But instead, I wake to a stinging reality, This Too Shall Last—a book I read this month about finding grace when suffering lingers.

In this post, I reflect on K.J. Ramsey's perspectives as I share my wrestling with suffering, goodness, community, and hope.

This idea of clinging to Jesus is not a theological platitude, it is a deeply personal journey of faith, that brings the intimacy, vulnerability and connection we long for.

Do you need a way through?

“…there isn’t a light just at the end of the tunnel, but there is Light Himself with us now who leads the whole way through.”

Voskamp opens WayMaker in a surprisingly vulnerable way, sharing an awkward and painful dance towards intimacy as a newlywed, paralleling the vulnerability required for the wedded connection our souls desire with our Creator.

Our Charlie Brown Christmas tree stood in our bay window this month crooked with weeping, gaping branches.

It was the year of tree shortages.

But there in the sparseness of our sad Christmas tree was a message that didn’t need sprucing up.

It was happening again.

She was shut down like a clam, no budging, no words, no engagement. This was the perfect opportunity to practice what I was learning and I could hear author Jennifer Kolari’s wise words:

Connect before you correct!

Mirroring the emotions of my children is not my first instinct.

Drilling down on the outward behavior, the unintentional disrespect, and the time being lost is more natural. I want to make everything right as fast as possible.

But this time I didn’t rush the process.

This time I made space for her to breathe as we slowed down together.

I asked questions, reflected on her emotions, and mirrored her feelings. I created a safe place.

With our curbside garages and cavernous homes, high fenced backyards, and tiny bare front lawns, it is easy to understand why we struggle with the simple command of Jesus:

“Love your neighbour.”

Our culture is simply not well set up for it.

We subconsciously embrace an isolationist castle mentality, not only mentally, but in the physical design of our neighborhoods and homes.

A word slithered in and wrapped around my chest just before Mother's Day weekend.  Some of you know it too well.

Cancer.

My heart twisted into a knot along with my aching back. Rain poured outside as I sat inside with my tears. It wasn't fear or despair; it was reality.  A deep sadness.  My beautiful mom was waiting for hip surgery, not a lumpectomy! 

As I caught my breath Sarah Clarkson's words in her new book This Beautiful Truth: How God's Goodness Breaks into Our Darkness, spoke to my soul.

A friend gifted me the book Surprised by Paradox, by Jen Pollock Michel, this past Christmas.

Given our culture’s struggle with triggering conversations lately, I was intrigued.

Division, dissection, and discrimination define the polarization that’s bathed our world in anxiety and hate this last year.

Though we try, hot topics don’t usually fall into black and white categories, because real life is a prism of complexity.

There is rarely one answer and one right way.

2021 is the year we get our lives back—right?

Even if a vaccine relieves our world of the coronavirus restrictions, the global heartache present before this pandemic is the real threat to our lives!

It started with the neglect of our souls.

John Eldredge observed this soul pandemic and offers “everyday practices for a world gone mad” in his latest book Get Your Life Back.