I know it’s tempting to light a match to the dumpster of 2020 and walk away. It’s been rough.
But let’s not be hasty. Because in between the pandemic and the racial tension and the election and the Tiger King, there was good.
Scripture tells us to give thanks in all circumstances. Not necessarily FOR all circumstances, but IN all circumstances. In the midst of trials, we always have reasons to be grateful, because God never stops doing good to us. And I’ve found that when I practice gratitude IN my circumstances, it’s not such a leap to also thank Him FOR the challenges as well. He is in it all.
So as we look back, as always, we mourn and we rejoice. We give ourselves the necessary space to grieve the losses, so we can make room in our hearts to celebrate the goodness.
To that end, I offer another year-end review for you (click on the graphic below to download). I hope this helps you look back and mine for the good while you also honor what you have lost. And yes, hopefully, it will all help us look forward to 2021 and trust that better things are on the way.
We have a weathered wooden board in our bathroom that we repurposed as a towel rack. It is deeply weathered from wind, rain, and probably sand (I don’t remember where I found it). There are layers of paint or maybe stain that have worn off to varying degrees. It has cracks in it. There’s discoloration on the edges I can’t identify.
I love that board.
Who knows what hands it has passed through or how it came to look the way it does. I love it because when I look at it, it tells me a story.
It’s beautiful. And you could never, ever, make another one exactly like it.
Our souls are that board.
Beautiful, unique, telling a story unlike any other. Meant to be a blessing just the way we are. Worn and useful for the Maker’s hands.
But gosh the world tells us we should be anything but, doesn’t it? It pushes us to be bigger and better, to go higher and faster. It says, “Be put together, spiritually sound, never struggle, do it right.” This country was founded on a pursuit of happiness that leaves no space for suffering or failure. It’s a game of “avoid the heartache and you win.”
You don’t get beautiful that way.
The Blessing of a Weathered Soul
The apostle Paul knew that. He wrote, “Not only so but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”
I think of our kids. When they encounter challenges, I want to rescue them. Instead, I try to remember that this weathering is necessary for their souls. He’s doing something beautiful in them through it.
I think of the painful seasons God has brought me through. I hold the lessons I learned from them like treasures. They are the marks on my soul that bear witness to His work, His faithfulness, and His goodness, shaping me into my true self.
I think of our world right now, and what we’re going through. And yes, it’s awful and I wish it weren’t true, but I know that once we’re through this, there will be good that comes. As we weather the storms, God doesn’t stand far away. He is right here, next to us, in the middle of it all. He has compassion on us, but He knows how it shapes us too.
We aren’t called to an unscathed life. So we patiently endure. We trust that nothing is wasted. He uses everything to beautify us, to reclaim us as His. May we surrender to the process of weathering.
This spring I began a program of spiritual formation through The Transforming Center. “Formed to the image of Christ for the sake of others” is the phrase guiding this process.
It’s that last phrase, “for the sake of others” that keeps running through my mind.
Who we are and what we do is not in isolation. There is power in how we live to impact those around us.
Take rest, for example. I have always been someone with a high capacity for activity. I’m ambitious. I often bite off more than I can chew.
For the longest time, I was unaware of the impact that pace had on me, to the point of outright denial. It’s like the popular meme I’ve seen lately, something like this:
Me: Why do I keep getting tension headaches?
My body: because you’re doing too much.
Me: And why are my shoulders so tight?
My body: Because you’re doing too much.
Me: I wish I knew why I got these stomach aches.
My body: Please for the love of God, slow down.
Me: I guess we’ll never know . . .
Only in my case, it wasn’t just my body telling me. It was my doctor, my dentist, my chiropractor, my friends, my family.
I used to think I could just tweak some things-plan a little better, delegate more, stay in front of the ball.
But after a while, I realized I was being unkind to myself.
So I started slowing down. Leaving more margin. Talking to the little monsters in me that drive me to perform. Giving them permission to stop. Breathing more deeply. It’s been good.
Yet, at the end of the day, I’m still tempted to push through busy days. One more task checked off. A little more productivity to get me ahead. The resistance to rest is never far off.
For the Sake of Others
Except now, when this phrase keeps resonating in my head, “for the sake of others.” And I realize that while I might be able to power through, I have to ask what it does to those around me.
Am I the person I want to be for them when I am strained to my limits?
What does it communicate to them about how they ought to live?
Does this pace form me to the image of Christ?
I never want others to look at me and think, “I can’t keep up.” I want to live my life at a restful pace and to invite others to it as well. May they never feel under the pile by the pace I set.
One morning recently, I woke up early because my body is physically incapable of sleeping past 6 am at the latest. My first thought was, “Hey, church starts later today. I could work for an hour.” And then in my Facebook memories, I found this quote from my friend Ken Cochrum:
“I feel it when I am not hurried to finish a conversation, a workout, a chapter in the book I’m reading, a phone call, a project I’m working on, or a meal. Hurry in me creates apathy and thinness. Ease creates spaces for authenticity, genuine concern, acute awareness, and ultimately LOVE. Remember, ‘Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day. You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.’” (including a quote from Dallas Willard)
Me resting doesn’t just affect me; it changes who I am with others. It makes me someone who walks better with others, it creates space for relationships with them and ultimately leads to love.
This is true of whatever way God desires to form us into the image of Christ.
[ictt-tweet-inline]We are the hands and feet of Jesus to each other, in how we live, work, parent, play, and minister.[/ictt-tweet-inline] How we order our lives not only shapes us, it shapes who we are with others, and in turn, who they become.
I don’t know about you, but this feels like a call to stewardship. We do not live in isolation, therefore we do not grow in isolation. For the sake of others, may we invite God to do more in us.
I heard once that Jesus talks about the kingdom of God more than anything else. More than love, or the resurrection, or peace. Why?
Recently, my mind has been fixed on the kingdom. Or rather, my kingdom vs The Kingdom.
I know that there exists a kingdom of my own making. You have one too. It’s in our nature, to build a world for ourselves, to find what Buechner calls, “our place in the sun.”
I also know that we need to leave our kingdoms behind.
I’ve been in a slow process of doing so for many years. God started it. He always does. We aren’t meant to live in our own self-made domains. He loves us too much to let us live there.
But what do I mean by this kingdom creating? I mean the systems we create to provide for ourselves, to protect us from pain, to find love and belonging.
Our kingdoms have rules and values, ways of operating. And unfortunately, they usually run counter to the uppercase Kingdom.
That’s where we get in trouble.
The Trouble With Our Kingdoms
See, in Gina’s kingdom, I take care of myself. I do a pretty good job of taking care of others too. I perform to, or even exceed, the expectations of others. My reward is admiration and recognition, which kind of feels like love.
If you bump up against my kingdom, you might feel the pressure to live up to those expectations too. If I’m too wrapped up in my world, it might be hard for me to notice if you’re doing ok-after all, I don’t expect others to pay attention to my emotional well-being either.
But in God’s Kingdom, there’s no taking care of self, because it is prideful. There, perfect love drives out the fear that He won’t show up for me. In His way of living, there is no striving, only resting, when it comes to finding worth. There aren’t expectations on performance, just a hope that we will live gladly and purposefully in light of His love.
The troubles we encounter in life often center around the places where we expect others, including God, to live by our kingdom rules.
If the banner of my little self-made land is performance, but your world is focused on everyone being positive and having fun, and someone else’s dominion is ruled by order and perfection, and on and on, well, you can see where we might all have trouble living in peace with one another. Because deep down, we all think our dominion is the right one and the best one.
After a while, they aren’t kingdoms anymore: they’re prisons.
And our kingdoms need to crumble.
Letting Our Kingdoms Crumble
Jesus talked about the Kingdom so much because He knew we would try to make our own, and they would be lousy places to live.
He knew we would resist living in that true place He offers, so He wanted to give us a solid picture of His vs ours. He won’t stop until we live there.
The good news is that we are citizens of a new Kingdom.
We have a choice. I believe it’s the choice Jesus was talking about when he said to take up our crosses daily and follow Him. Each day, we choose to walk away from our kingdoms, the rules and expectations we impose on ourselves and others, and to walk in a new way.
We stop believing God should act according to our kingdom rules and we surrender to the life-giving freedom of His.
To do so requires humility. It requires a willingness to believe that maybe our best efforts are simply that-our efforts-and maybe there’s another way to live. For our worlds to fall away, we have to surrender.
When we seek His kingdom first, He tells us that everything else falls into place. We can live in peace with our neighbors, because we’re all actually in the same dominion now, not warring against one another.
So we ask God, “Where am I still trying to make this kingdom work for me? Where am I not living by your way but my own?” And then we raise the white flag.
The good news, God is patient, and He is relentless. The Kingdom He has built for us is always there, waiting for us to lay down our defenses and rest in Him.
When I was about 20 years old, I thought, “I feel like God’s done a lot in me. I don’t know that there’s much else He wants to change. I think I’m pretty much done.” Like for REAL, I thought this.
And the Lord, in His mercy, chose not to strike me down.
Decades later (has it really been decades?), I am more than aware that I was not done then, and I’m still far from it now. God continues His work in me.
If you’ve read my blog for a while, you might remember my yellow coffee table. When we first had it custom made overseas, it came to us traffic sign yellow (not what I ordered).
Some might have looked at that table and said, “Good enough.” But I believed under all that eye-blinding yellow, my real coffee table existed.
So I sanded it down.
Better.
Three months later, I sanded it down again.
Still not quite there though.
So, a few months later, I tried again. When my daughter witnessed me doing it, she asked me why. “Because this is what I do now. This is my life. I sand this table for a living.”
Actually, I did it because I had a vision of something greater.
(Truth be told, in the end, I stripped it completely. It’s white now. Sometimes we need a complete overhaul).
The whole process causes me to think about the process of growth in our lives. It’s easy to look at the surface and think, “Yep. Good enough!” But God has a bigger vision for us.
God’s Bigger Vision for Our Growth
That vision involves a lot of stripping and sanding and polishing to get to what is underneath.
He knows our layers, what lies beneath, where the real stuff is. He won’t stop until He is satisfied that we are the way we are meant to be.
It’s a long process. Tiring. Baffling. So often I want say, “Good enough, God. This is good enough. No need to keep working.”
But He does. And what it’s reminding me today is that He is faithful. He will never stop working on us, bringing us closer to Him, molding us in His image.
His ways are higher and bigger and better than what I can see. He sees what lies beneath, the layers of our hearts that even we don’t know. He is determined to reveal every part of us.
God is relentless. He never gives up on us. He doesn’t settle for “good enough” or “close enough.” What He began in us He will complete.
And He is patient. However long it takes, however much it takes, He will fulfill His promises to us and in us. We are his long term project.
“He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus.”
2013 was the first year I chose one word for my resolutions. It seemed simpler-one focus rather than a dozen soon to be abandoned goals. It went pretty well.
I chose one word subsequent years as well. Over time, though, I realized something. During those years, God brought other lessons into my life, unrelated to those words. And it’s hardly my place to say, “Um, excuse me? I’m focused on this ONE THING right now. Come back later.”
Those lessons weren’t short ones, either. Or necessarily new ones. In fact, the same lessons keep coming up over and over. To the point where I get discouraged and say, “God, didn’t we cover this material already? Did I fail the first time? How many times are we going over this?”
Turns out we go over it until we learn it.
What I’m Doing Instead of One Word
So this year I decided: no need to search for a new word. I just need to keep visiting the old ones. Who knows, maybe they’re my lessons for life? I keep learning till I die? Here’s hoping I’m not quite that slow a learner.
And in the interest of authenticity and encouragement and general self-disclosure, I’m going to share those lessons with you. They’ll probably be familiar to you (they could also be titled, “The Themes of Gina’s Blog in the Past Five Years”). I hope they might spur your own Life Lesson List.
Slow Down
Whenever I think I’ve slowed my life down, God points out a way that it could be even slower. Pretty soon I might be going backward. But He reminds me that He does not value efficiency and productivity the way I do; they are not His goal for me. While they have their place, I want to be someone who journeys well with people, and with my own soul. It is hard to do that when I’m running.
I want to move at a pace that allows me to hear from the Spirit, to pay attention to the needs around me, to have space to meet them. Hopefully, I will become someone whose spirit invites others to rest and life. I never want my soul to have to catch up to my body. So I will keep seeking a healthy pace.
Love in the Little Things
One of the biggest things I hope happens when I slow down is the space and awareness to see how I can love others better. This phrase, “love in the little things” has swirled in my mind for months. It’s recognizing the small ways I could love the people God puts in my life.
It’s often the ways that, if I never did them, they won’t notice. Like sending a card or a text letting someone know I’m thinking of them. Making a meal. Stopping by to say hi. A gift. Honestly, an extra minute of conversation when my temptation is to stay on task. Aside from loving God, loving others is our highest task. So I hope to love in the little things.
Be Poor in Spirit
When I say this one, people often wonder out loud if it’s a good thing. Well, Jesus said it was, so I’m sticking with it, especially since I can’t say it’s true of me yet. I expect much of myself and others, without realizing it. I spend a lot of energy trying to impress, and my expectation of others often includes them impressing me.
But I’m done being underwhelmed by life. To be poor in spirit is to be humble and in awe of all that God gives. It precludes entitlement. It assumes nothing, expects nothing, and is then therefore grateful for everything. Being poor in spirit is the way of the kingdom, so I will press on to live well in it.
Ask Audaciously
The past few years life has brought us bigger issues that have prompted greater prayers. I can’t say He’s answered all of them the way I hoped. But I can say that it has turned me toward Him. It’s strengthened my faith. It’s made me bolder.
And yet I am aware that I have only just begun to ask for what God might give me. After all, He said He provides more than we can ask or imagine, right? I want to continue to grow not only in the frequency of my requests, but the confidence with which I ask, the hope with which I wait, and the trust I have in any answer. I want Him to say, when I see Him face to face, “Oh child, I’m so glad you asked.”
Stay at Home with God
I read this quote recently, “God is at home. It is we who have gone out for a walk” (Meister Eckhart). Yes, I am prone to wander. But in the seasons when I have made it my aim to remember this truth, “I am at home with God and I do not need to search for life elsewhere,” I have lived with the freedom and authenticity I long for. It creates a solid place inside me from which life and love can flow. In fact, I should probably list it first. It is first. God’s greatest desire for us is that we live at home in His love.
Staying in that truth is a battle, but it is the battle worth fighting. If we don’t believe that His love is enough, we can never slow down-we will continue to seek our value in achievement. We cannot give others a love we do not possess. We can’t be poor in spirit either-we’ll still be looking for proof of our importance. Children ask audaciously when they know they are deeply loved. Staying at home in His love is the key to all of this.
So these are the words/phrases/lessons God keeps bringing around. I hope to grow in them this year. And the next. And probably the next.
I am grateful that He does not give up on us, and the ways He wants us to change. The fact that these stay in my mind are evidence that God is faithful.
What about you? Do you have a word for the year? A new way God is leading you? What do you hope to see happen this year?
This summer I celebrated my 44th birthday. I’m officially just, “40 something.” I thought this was when I was supposed to have a midlife crisis, or pine for my youth, but as I reflect on it, I actually love being “middle aged.” Here’s why:
I am more comfortable in my own skin.
I’d love to say “completely comfortable” but I’m not quite there. It’s been a journey. I am more able to laugh at my foolishness (and less surprised by it). I’m learning to accept my limits rather than always pushing them. My physical body may not be exactly how I’d like, but I love that it is still healthy and strong.
I can wear what I want.
Sure, I’d like to still stay within the boundaries of looking socially acceptable (or at least not land myself squarely in “completely out of touch”). But more and more I take a look at what passes for “this season’s trends” and think, “Yeah, maybe next year.” Or maybe never. I’m aiming for “classic” these days. No one’s expecting me to be cool anymore, thank the Lord. Wearing what I like instead of what’s expected is awesome.
I have wrinkles.
Now, this is a “by faith” kind of love. Sure, I wish I didn’t have them, but the fact that I do is a reminder that I have lived. They are lines of experience, evidence that I have seen and done much. The sun has shined on my face in a dozen different countries. I have laughed. Hard. Those wrinkles are an accumulation of joy at the blessings I’ve been given.
I have life long relationships.
There’s something about being able to say, “I’ve known this person for decades, and they know me (and still like me).” What a blessing! My husband and I just hit 20 years of marriage. Soon we will have been married longer than we were single. One of my closest friends I have known for over 30 years. The amount of history wrapped up in those kinds of relationships is priceless, and there’s an aspect to it that only comes with a lot of time.
I’m more at peace with the world.
I get less worked up about most things and more passionate about what I feel really matters. There’s more gray in the world that I knew, and that makes it easier to major on the majors rather than every little thing that seems out of sorts. Along the way I’ve realized most of my attempts to control the world are futile (though don’t be surprised if you still catch me trying). What we think is huge is small in comparison to God’s sovereignty.
My mess doesn’t bother me as much.
For so much of my life, I aimed for having it all together. Being messy felt like a one way ticket to being shunned from good society. But some time back, God started teaching me that not only can others love me in my mess, they often love me more when I let them into it. The more I own my depravity, the more I see that God’s grace is greater than anything I lack. He is leading me to rest in my flawed existence and know I am still loved.
I have experienced God’s faithfulness.
None of these things could be true of me apart from the relentless, tender grace and love of God that has pursued me every day of my life. I love that I can look back and trace the lines of His faithfulness to me through countless years, places, and experiences. He has been my most steadfast companion over all the mountains and through all the valleys. The more I live, the more I can attest to the truth of it, and it makes me love Him more. If I’ve learned anything, it is that He is good.
So there you have it-me enjoying my 40s. The best part is, these things I love will only continue, and I have hope that they will get even better with time.
About 8 years ago, when I was coaching a leadership program for our ministry, the other coaches began pulling out these “Enneagram” books. Having a love/hate relationship with personality tests, I was intrigued. I skimmed one of the books, saw myself in half of the 9 numbers, and came to the quick conclusion that the Enneagram is a crock.
But those other coaches were wise people, so I persisted. I narrowed myself down to 1, 3, or 4. My friend, Iris, who is an Enneagram 3, suggested that I was also a 3. Secretly, I wanted to be anything other than a 3.
So I decided I was a 1. I texted Iris this news, and she texted back, “if you say so.” She was unconvinced.
A few weeks, and several conversations with close friends later, I came to the conclusion that I am, in fact, an Enneagram 3.
This was devastating to me. I called Iris, in tears, “Iris, I’m a 3!”
She said, “Oh honey, I know . . . when I realized I was a 3, I was up all night. And in the morning, I thought, ‘if I’m a 3, it’s cause God made me a 3, and that’s a good thing!'”
“Ok,” I choked.
Since that conversation, I have not only embraced my 3ness, but the Enneagram itself.
So why do I love the Enneagram?
The Enneagram doesn’t just tell us what we do; it tells us why we do it.
If we want to grow or change at all, we have to know the motivation behind our behavior. (this is also a reason why it can be challenging to figure out which type we are-it gets below the surface).
The Enneagram doesn’t just tell us where we are; it tells us where we could be.
This isn’t a static assessment. Each of the 9 numbers has levels of maturity, so although you’ll never be a different number, you have a vision for growth within your type.
The Enneagram is nuanced.
While there are 9 types on the Enneagram, there are subtypes, wings, integration and disintegration, on top of the levels of maturity, that all reveal our uniqueness. So you and I might both be 3s, but we can still be our own people. It captures our complexity.
The Enneagram helps us see our depravity.
Yes, I know that doesn’t sound like much fun, but it’s necessary. Because if we can’t see how we’re trying to save ourselves and bring it to God, then we miss redemption. You know why I didn’t want to be a 3? Because I recognized the depravity of a 3, and I didn’t want to own it (guess what-every number has depravity. We can’t escape it).
The Enneagram shows us how to love the people around us.
It’s revolutionized our marriage by helping us both see the deeper motivations behind our behavior. Recognizing our kids’ numbers helps me understand what drives them and how to speak into it. Knowing my friends and co-workers on this level helps me see life from their perspective and speak their language.
The Enneagram can lead us back to God.
Each number has a root fear that drives it. The more we let God speak to our root fear, the more rested and free we are to live our true selves. When I see myself acting out very typical 3 behaviors, it gives pause to say, “What am I trying to get from others that I should be looking to God for instead?” It opens our eyes to our self-saving strategies.
They say our Enneagram type is the lens through which we see the world. Our lens will never change, but the more we understand our own lenses, the more we will recognize how we are trying to do life on our own, and how God is calling us to live more freely and expansively. And, we can develop compassion and grace for others who see the world through a different lens.
Motherhood has been one of the greatest instruments that God has used to sanctify me.
It makes me vulnerable and helpless. It terrifies me at times. It stretches my heart and mind. It flattens me with the gravity of the responsibility to shape a soul.
My children delight me. They teach me. They make me laugh and cry. They infuriate me.
My children deepen my faith.
Discovering I was pregnant just months before moving overseas was not my plan. But through that God taught me that His assignments for my life are good, His timing is perfect, He knows what He’s doing with me.
Those first months of motherhood, my eyes were opened to how intertwined my value was with what I do and how well I do it. Through the years, God has been using motherhood to slowly pried my fingers from that lie.
In the dark hours of the night, when no one (including my deep sleeping husband) knew that I was awake with our son, God knew. He drew my heart into knowing His character, seeing Him see me.
Trying to fill the endless hours of toddlerhood with meaning, while so much of it was mundane, slowed me down. I found God’s delight in the over and over. He taught me that faithfulness in the small moments is of great value in His eyes.
Homeschooling undid me. It brought me to my knees, to absolute helplessness before Him. It daily asked of me more than I had, while reminding me that He is more than enough for all I lack. It taught me that I am dependent on the manna of His strength and wisdom every day.
Walking our kids through the heartache of transition wrecked me. How do you help someone navigate a heart flooded with emotion when you’re drowning too? God was the anchor I needed to be a life preserver for our kids. For all that was asked of me, He poured in more.
And in the hairy moments when our kids have resisted my mothering, I have learned about the love of God. When I sting with anger and hurt, He reminds me over and over again to stay the course; this is how He loves us. He has taught me to take deep breaths and keep on loving.
When I see my sin and shortcomings mirrored back to me in their behavior, I am humbled. God has used it to keep me honest, telling me again and again that what I need to give them is not a perfect mother, but a confessional one who owns her mess and points them to the One who has redeemed it all.
As they step closer and closer to that door to adulthood and further from my grasp, motherhood has taught me to pray desperate prayers. It has pushed me to trust that God loves them more than I do, and He goes with them when I cannot.
God has used motherhood to reveal my weaknesses, my idols, my self-saving ways. And He has used it to redeem me, to pull me close to Him, to teach me dependence, to give me a greater picture of His love. It has been a holy pathway to Him.
This thought occurred to me yesterday as I walked around our neighborhood. Pondering the fact that our daughter’s team, playing in a tournament an hour away, was not doing well, left me unsettled.
First game was a bust. Second game they knocked two in the goal in the first ten minutes, but let their lead slip away into a tie game. Those two games meant advancing was impossible, regardless of the outcome of the final game. Our daughter walked away from the second game in tears.
Nothing is more important to her right now than this sport. All her future hopes are wrapped up in this. And while we both know that the hold on her heart is too strong, I remind myself it is not my job to make sure her dream doesn’t die. It’s not my job to make it all better. All my unsettledness was because I could. not. fix it.
Oh, but that’s what I want to do. Take away the pain. Erase the loss and disappointment. We all want that. We want wins, and good grades, and close friends, and safety. Eliminate everything that could hurt our kids.
So I set myself up in the position of savior in her heart.
Why We Try to Save
It’s heady stuff to have a person who thinks you can do anything. We slip into the superman complex because it makes us feel good about ourselves that we can be the rescuer, the savior, the protector.
Maybe if we just stay close enough, say the right words, step in at just the right moments, we can fend off disasters. We believe the lie that we can control their worlds.
It feels right. It feels like love, to protect others from pain. But then I look at God and His word and I remember that the path to maturity always involves suffering. It makes us like Him.
Ultimately, apart from putting way too much pressure on ourselves to be more to them than we can be, saving our kids takes away the opportunity for them to look to the real Savior, to learn to rely on Him and receive from Him what they need in times of struggle.
Why We Shouldn’t Save
Being away from my daughter this weekend was hard, but so good for her. She needs me to get out of the way so that she can learn to lean on the One who is always there, who knows the value of failure, loss, loneliness, and pain to mold a heart into His image, and whose wise hands guide her in ways I never could.
We do our people a disservice when we don’t encourage them to turn to Him in times of fear, hurt, discouragement. Our lives are meant to be lived in dependence on Him. Pain is a pathway to that dependence.
“It helps to resign as the controller of your fate. All that energy we expend to keep things running right is not what’s keeping things running right.” Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
All that energy we spend trying to keep others’ lives running right is not what keeping things running right for them. In fact, it might just be what keeps them from Him.
So let’s resign as the controllers, the rescuers, the saviors of our children. Let’s trust the true Savior and teach our children to look to Him in times of trial.
