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“do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ”

— Philippians 4:6-7

I’ve had these verses memorized since college. They come to my mind often; I’ve reflected on them time and time again. But it wasn’t until recently that I clung to them like a lifeline. Not having a history of anxiety, I didn’t understand the mental battles many go through on a daily basis until I had what you might call a “perfect storm” of circumstances that were far out of my control. I was coping and surviving, and my body realized I was stressed and anxious before my brain caught up.

The storm around me seemed to be raging, and I was just trying not to drown.

Now’s the part where you might presume I’m going to tell you that I just fixed my eyes on Jesus, repeated these verses, and He pulled me out of the rushing rapids. Well, yes and no.

…

Here’s the thing: the mind is a battlefield where spiritual warfare is constantly taking place, whether we acknowledge it or not. And while there are numerous factors that can contribute to anxiety, I do believe it is primarily a spiritual battle. We can choose to honor God with our thoughts, or we can allow worry to take the steering wheel of our brain and reap the consequences of the bumpy ride.

I know that’s not necessarily what we want to hear when it feels like we can’t quiet the fears and worries in our minds. During my daily battles, I grew so so frustrated with myself. I would come back to these verses in Philippians over and over, repeating them in a near-constant manner of prayer and pleading with God. I knew, I mean really knew the truth of these verses and yet kept on struggling with panicked feelings. I was definitely mad at myself and a little bit mad at God for allowing the circumstances for its manifestation.

In the midst of this, one of my children was going through a phase where he was suddenly struggling with bedtime. Right after we put him in his bed for the night, he would inevitably call out to us. Kevin or I would take turns going back in his room where he would list all of the things he was “scary of.” At first we started taking things out of his room that he listed (the lamp, stuffed animals), which worked for a few nights. But we quickly realized that method would not suffice when his fear of the ceiling fan was next on the list. So we would soothe his fears by returning over and over, praying with him, and reassuring him he was safe. (And finally, threatening his most loved toys in case you’re tempted to believe we are ever-patient parents.)

But one night when I went back in his room for what felt like the 100th time, I felt such a conviction and comfort of the Holy Spirit. As I spoke, “Hey buddy, there is nothing to be afraid of,” I felt the Lord nudge me with those same words. Do not fear (Isaiah 41:10). As I reminded him “I am right here,” I felt the nearness of God (Psalm 34:18). As I imperfectly & impatiently returned back to comfort him, I knew the Lord was returning to comfort me time and time again, like the perfect Father He is (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).

In those tender moments of trying to help my toddler process fears, the Lord similarly redirected my gaze and filled me with that peace that passes all understanding. Not that all of my fears disappeared, but I was no longer weighed down by the worry. Instead of removing the lamp, so to speak, He was taking my hand and reminding me of new days and new mercies and the hope that springs eternal. God didn’t change my circumstances, but He did change my mindset.

“ We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ”

— 2 Corinthians 10:5

…

I want to circle back to the verses in Philippians for a moment. Because as much as I can empathize with those who struggle with anxiety around the clock, we might also need some tough love here. So let’s reread the verses and look at a few things…

“do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ”

— Philippians 4:6-7

• Paul doesn’t say “don’t be anxious unless you have really horrible circumstances.” Paul was writing this book from PRISON, so I’d say he was familiar with bad circumstances.

• He doesn’t say “don’t be anxious unless it’s about kids or health or finances.” There aren’t any caveats or loopholes in the things we are allowed to worry about. Yikes. (I say this with conviction, not because Paul is in the wrong here.)

• Scripture says don’t be anxious about anything. This is a command, not a suggestion. Are we going to be perfect in this? No. Are we going to occasionally let fears and worries take the driver’s seat? For sure. But that doesn’t mean we become passive and treat worry as a welcome guest. We must recognize this as the spiritual warfare that it is. We must be vigilant and take every thought captive to obey Christ (2 Cor. 10:5). We must recognize that “fret and worry indicate a lack of trust in God’s wisdom, sovereignty, or power” (MacArthur Bible Commentary).

• We’re given the antidote to worry: prayer and gratitude. We must bring all of our thoughts and requests to God and keep the right perspective (a thankful spirit) in doing so. It’s this manner that the Lord uses to rewire our brains; He transforms us by the renewal of our minds (Romans 12:2).

• The peace of God will stand guard for us. This picture is pretty incredible when you think about it… If you have trusted in Jesus as Savior and surrendered to Him as Lord of your life, then you have access to the Father (through Christ’s death and resurrection). And His peace will stand guard for us in that unseen spiritual battle that is taking place. But we can only be filled with His peace if we trust in His presence.

If I’m sounding a little preachy, it’s not because I have any moral high ground here. I am highlighting some truths because the rest of the world won’t. The culture today will tell you to lean into your emotions and follow your heart (straight off a cliff). They will tell you anxiety is a normal part of life and let’s just manage it with some medication (not saying medication is wrong; I’m just not sure it should be the default answer in every single case). And Satan? He’s leading the worldly charge. He wants us to fester in our worry, complain about our situations, to hide the hope we have in front of us. And if the devil can’t get us to do that then he wants us numb and distracted. The enemy wants us afraid and alone and addicted to anything other than Jesus.

And listen, I don’t know what kind of dark room you may be sitting in or the monsters you might be facing. I don’t want to gloss over the harsh realities around us. Some of you are probably surrounded by unimaginable circumstances that would break my heart right open. But even in the midst of this, even in the deepest fears and funerals and family drama, I do know that more worry is not the answer. I do know a God who promised to work all things for good for those who love Him (Romans 8:28). And I do know that heaven appears sweeter and the Gospel truer in a world heavy with grief and suffering.

So let us not allow worry to weigh us down, but with prayer and gratitude come before the Father. And may the peace of God guard our hearts and minds, like a soldier standing on that battlefield, because of the hope we have in Christ Jesus—today, tomorrow, and for all of eternity.

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Practical points to curb anxiety:

• This one may be obvious, but I would be remiss if I didn’t highlight it here: we must saturate ourselves in Scripture. It is the primary weapon against the enemy’s schemes. Study it, memorize it, obey it. Here are a few more of the verses I keep coming back to whenever worry and overwhelm hit:

  • You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. -Isaiah 26:3

  • Psalm 23 (all of it)

  • Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? -Matthew 6:25-27

  • Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. -Isaiah 41:10

  • Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. -Matthew 11:28-30

• Worship even when you don’t feel like it (maybe especially when you don’t feel like it). Make a playlist of your favorite hymns and worship songs and sing aloud to the Lord. A few favorites to combat worry are:

  • The More I Seek You

  • Goodness of God

  • Gratitude

  • Comforter

  • Still Waters

• Pick one person/family outside of your immediate family to pray for each day. We must lift our eyes off ourselves and remember our call to care for others.

• Serve someone else. While this seems like this would contribute to more overwhelm, the Lord often uses our willingness to serve as a means to pull us out of the thought-spiral cycle. *In some cases, we may find ourselves wrung out with worry because we have taken on too many projects. So while we should seek to serve others (even sacrificially so), we must do so with wisdom & regular schedule evaluations (Feel free to ask me for my real life example involving meal trains and meltdowns).

• Examine your diet & lifestyle—eating real foods, getting outside, taking deep breaths, and moving your body are a few helpful practices in ditching the despair.

• Lean into community, not away from it. Even if it’s imperfect (it will be). I heard a crazy stat that says eye contact and being listened to has similar effects on your brain as antidepressants! In Galatians 6:9 it says to “bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.” We can’t share our burdens if we don’t tell anyone else our struggles.

• Think about these things: “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise” (Philippians 4:8). I have a note written in my Bible alongside this passage: you become what you think about. If we are constantly filling our minds with stressful news cycles (for example), it’s no surprise that anxiety comes knocking.

  • What media are we consuming? What accounts are we following? What habits are we practicing (or need to be practicing)? If we fix our eyes on the waves of the storm, we will start to sink. But if we are overwhelmingly fixing our eyes on Jesus, we may walk confidently regardless of the turmoil around us (see Matthew 14:22-33).

We’re wrapping up summer here in Alabama as my kids start preschool this week. I am shifting gears and slightly scrambling to make sure all of the back-to-school things are accounted for, but also still finding myself evaluating the past few months as people inevitably ask, “How was your summer?”

Here’s the long-winded version:

Honestly, half of this summer was spent trying to figure out a good rhythm for our energetic crew, which was tricky since the youngest still very much needs his morning nap. Once he pasts a certain point, he starts to resemble a (still)cute-but-loud little gremlin whose sole purpose is to let you know how very tired he is with his every scream. The older two kids (ages 4&2), however, need to run wild for most of the morning (not unlike small Energizer bunnies), so we tried to find some sort of ever-elusive balance…which really just meant we traipsed around different parks with the tiny gremlin in tow or stayed home and tore our entire house apart.

The second half of the summer seemed better...until I decided to do a Whole 30/social-media-break combo for some reason which I can no longer recall (there's only a few days left until I can taste the finish line).

Truly though, our summer was challenging but good. We played barefoot in the creek and roasted marshmallows, had dance parties and tickle fights, birthday celebrations and water gun wars. But there were also meltdowns and long mornings and extreme temperatures. I gave up cheese and bread and Instagram and gained countless dirty dishes. I was able read a lot of books, but I never did figure out when to best put the kids’ laundry away.

Much like the end of most seasons, I find myself (over)thinking:

Did we go on enough adventures and read enough stories and play enough games? Did we pray enough? Laugh enough? Hold hands enough? Discipline enough? Did I make the most of our everyday time together? Did I pay attention to all of the hard and good and beautiful?

And every time I start down that rabbit trail, the Lord gently brings me back to this comforting yet challenging thought: fishes & loaves.

Now you may be thinking, “Well, Alex has officially lost her marbles. Maybe it was the combination of the summer heat and the challenge of raising 3 small children. Bless her heart.”

Or maybe your brain went straight to the miraculous Bible story where Jesus feeds over 5,000 people. It’s the only miracle (apart from the resurrection) recorded in all 4 Gospels and sets the stage for Jesus’s “Bread of Life” sermon in John 6.

…

Here’s a little recap:

Jesus withdraws from Galilee on a boat (sometime after hearing about the death of John the Baptist) to a desolate place. The crowd, eager to witness miracles and experience healings, follows Him. Jesus has compassion on them, heals their sick, and teaches the crowd.

The disciples get a little antsy as the daylight fades and they realize their current predicament. They approach Jesus and say, “’Send the crowd away to go into the surrounding villages and countryside to find lodging and get provisions, for we are here in a desolate place’” (Luke 9:12).

True to nature, Jesus replies, “’They need not go away; you give them something to eat’” (Matthew 14:16).

Jesus’s friends think something along the lines of “Cool, cool. With what food though?” Despite Jesus’s past miracles, the disciples were a little bewildered at His command. But we learn in John 6 that Andrew (Peter’s brother), offers this bit of information: “’There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish’” and then he asks a seemingly-relevant question, “’but what are they for so many?’” (John 6:9).

Oh, boy. It’s easy to roll our eyes at these disciples when reading these kinds of comments, right? But I think we need to remember how easy it is to get caught up in a difficult circumstance and lose sight of the bigger picture. Jesus’s followers were probably feeling the building pressure. There was bound to be tension in the air with a crowd of that magnitude, and they most likely wanted to prevent conflict and make sure no one died of starvation. But in that process, they lost sight of the Miraculous Savior they were following. They neglected or forgot the ways of their Rabbi.

Don’t we do the same thing? We are faced with bad news or mounting pressures or hard situations, and we quickly lose sight of the bigger picture. We forget the good, perfect, and holy God we are following, even if only for a moment. I know I get caught up in the day-to-day challenges too often. I take my gaze off the One who holds it all together, thinking that I can control an outcome if I just try hard enough (spoiler: it doesn’t work that way).

…

But here’s the part of the story that I love: Jesus uses those fishes & loaves. He blesses them, multiplies them, and has His hesitant disciples hand out food until everyone is full-to-the-brim. I will never stop chuckling at the fact that there were 12 whole baskets left over (one for each doubting disciple to carry?).

Fishes & loaves is such a comforting thought. Although Jesus does not need us to work in miraculous ways, He invites us to be a part of the story. Could Jesus have simply spoken to God and provided sustenance for everyone without involving someone else? You bet He could have (see: manna in the wilderness).

But on that long-ago day in the middle-of-nowhere, that little boy was able to see how Jesus used his measly meal to feed and bless thousands of people. He got to be a part of that miracle, and we are also invited to be a part of God’s redemptive ways in the everyday. We may not see the outcome right away, but we can rest assured that our sincere sacrifices for the kingdom will not go unused or unnoticed.

However, fishes and loaves is also a challenging thought. We know that the boy’s loaves were made of barley, which was common food for the poor in that day. He was most likely offering up all of the food he had for the foreseeable future. I think it would’ve been easy for that kid to hold on tight to his meal while thinking, “Surely there are other people in the crowd who have much more resources to offer. Jesus doesn’t need or want this little offering.”

Thankfully, he didn’t give in to those thoughts. Instead he gave away his food, and the boy was blessed in the bigger story that day.  As we similarly see in the story of the poor widow giving away her last coins (Mark 12), we know that Jesus values the heart behind the offering over its amount.

 …

So when I find myself overwhelmed or overthinking, the little phrase from this Bible story has become a guidepost for me lately, like the lamppost marking the way back to the wardrobe.

Fishes & loaves:

Am I relying on myself or on God? Am I giving Him my very best, my everything?

Fishes & loaves:

I serve a God of miracles who wants to use me in His great plan. I am not enough on my own merit, but He is.

Fishes & loaves:

I will lay my humble offering before the King, and I will trust in His power.

Most days my metaphorical fishes & loaves don’t seem very extraordinary, either. They look like changing diapers and kissing boo-boos and refereeing sibling fights. But when those things are done as a holy offering to God? Well that changes everything. No longer am I going through repetitive tasks; I am giving away my time as a gift for the building of His kingdom. No longer am I just a mom, but I am passing on tools to the next generation to live in light of the truth of the Gospel (very imperfectly, of course).

…

I think it’s worth mentioning the similarities between the feeding of the 5,000 and the Last Supper. In both instances, Jesus blesses the food, breaks the bread, and passes it to others. The Last Supper, however, carries with it a weightiness that we cannot quite fathom. As we peak around the corner at the turn of events, we see the perfect sacrificial Lamb willingly marching to slaughter, taking our deserved place on that wooden cross. Hallelujah, what a Savior.

As we lift our gazes to the greatest sacrifice of all time, all of the sudden our earthly sacrifices don’t seem too difficult. Our desire to serve and love and speak for the glory of God grows as we further grasp the depth of our sin and the height of His grace. After all, they’re just fishes & loaves, but we have seen what God can do with less than this.  

So what are your fishes and loaves? What are the things you need to give away or give up for the furthering of His kingdom? How can your God-given gifts be used to bless others (no matter how seemingly small or big they seem)?

Jesus invites us to be a part of his grand & beautiful plan with the gifts He has given us. Let’s give our good & perfect Savior all we’ve got and watch Him work miracles.

As I’m writing this, Christmas is less than a week away. We have sufficiently decked the halls, looked at the lights, seen the Santas, baked the treats, sung the carols, and watched the movies. I have been determined to do all the merry things despite the sickness, stitches, and sleeplessness that have infiltrated our Christmas cheer. And while we have experienced so much joy in these days, there have been lots of trying moments as well.

Last week I really channeled my Clark Griswold as I attempted not to lose my actual mind while building a gingerbread house with kids who have zero interest in allowing the icing to dry to salvage its structural integrity before trying to push each piece of candy onto the roof with their sticky fingers (For the record: those walls came down faster than Jericho. I kept my sanity in the multiple rebuilds …but just barely).

So while I continue to line up medicines, vitamins, and thermometers on our countertops like they are part of the seasonal décor and face another long night with a very fussy baby, I am feeling a bit weary. (And by a bit, I mean I am at the exhaustion level of someone who hasn’t had a full night of sleep in approximately 2 years.)

Gosh, I realize there are so many of you who are in thick of it right now—and certainly with circumstances much harder than mine. I am so sorry for the rough road you might be walking during this season. The difficulties just seem even more difficult at Christmas sometimes, don’t they? 

I am not here to start a pity party or present a hall pass for any sinfulness, but I am here to say: it’s okay to be weary. It’s okay to not be okay, to not be full of holiday cheer, to not do every single fun tradition that you had planned because the hurts, heartaches (or in my case: exhaustion levels) are at record highs. 

…

Since I have been either pregnant or nursing the last 5 consecutive Christmases, I have been thinking a lot about Mary. While it’s tempting to go straight to the iconic manger scene, you may have noticed that she had quite a few obstacles in her path along the way.

I’ve been imagining her confusion as the angel approached her with the most important news. How tired she must have been from the journey to Bethlehem. How disappointed she was when there was not a proper room for them. How strange it was to deliver a baby with so high a calling and so great a purpose without truly knowing the extent of what was going on. How desperate she must have been for some rest, lying her newborn baby in a feeding trough. 

I have a feeling there was some weariness in her bones, too. 

You probably remember the part of the story where the shepherds find out about Jesus, but here’s a quick recap: 

Shortly after Jesus’ birth (the same night), an angel appears to the shepherds and tells them that a Savior has been born and they will find Him as a “baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger” (Luke 2:8-12). The shepherds quickly go to Bethlehem to see the sight for themselves and tell Mary and Joseph what they have just seen and heard. But here are the verses that have stuck out to me lately:

“And all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart” (Luke 2:18-19, emphasis added).

In the original Greek, the word for “treasured” means “to preserve knowledge or memories (as for later use).” Although she didn’t fully comprehend the magnitude of the moments, she did not react with doubt or annoyance as far as we know. Despite her probable exhaustion and physical aches, she did not turn the shepherds away or ignore their interests. Instead, she savored the scenes before her, tucking them away like little files in her memories. 

She treasured and she pondered. The word for “ponder” in the original Greek means “to bring together in one’s mind, to confer with one’s self.” I’d imagine she was thinking back to Gabriel’s surprise visit just nine months beforehand, lining up the pieces as the story unfolded a little more before her very eyes. I’m sure she remembered her servant-hearted response and her song of praise that followed the angelic revelation.

It’s no coincidence that Mary was chosen to be the mother of God. From what I gather, she was tired but trusting, hurting but hopeful, exhausted but expectant. 

We see similar characteristics twelve years later when Jesus (as a young boy) stays behind in Jerusalem to teach in the temple, unbeknownst to his parents. Understandably, Mary is a little shaken when searching for her son. But Jesus replies that He has been “in [His] Father’s house.” While she did not quite understand at the time what He was saying, verse 51 says once again that she “treasured up all these things in her heart” (Luke 2: 45-51). 

There was another file tucked away in her mind. Another piece for reflection as she continued to raise her son “in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man” (52). And while she had yet to witness the full, glorious Gospel that would follow, she was full of trust, obedience, and a deep thoughtfulness that rarely plays out today. 

…

Here are the main things I am learning from Mary as I have been meditating on the Christmas story this year:

-You don’t have to identify all of the answers right away. 

In a culture that emphasizes immediate reactions to every news headline or issue, sometimes it is better to be quietly contemplative. To think before you act. And to listen more than you speak.

-Your difficult circumstances do not define your attitude.

I think we can all agree that Mary’s circumstances were less than ideal. But instead of focusing on the hardships by grumbling and complaining, we see her praise God in humility, walk forward in obedience, and continually reflect on all that He is doing. 

-Your faithful presence has purpose (regardless of age or status). 

Being a young and unwed girl, she was not the candidate that people in her time would have imagined the Messiah would choose to incorporate into His holy plan. But clearly God can and does use everyday faithfulness of ordinary people to bring forth His glory. 

As a mother now, I also can’t help but think about Mary years later while she stood beside the cross, watching her oldest son suffer for her sake and ours. In those sorrowful moments, did she think about Jesus as a sleeping baby in the manger or confident boy in the temple? Did she reflect on His adolescence or His many miracles? 

I am confident that so many of those scenes that she treasured and pondered flooded her memories in the agonizing hours, which undoubtedly led to a depth of emotion that I cannot fathom. But her nearby presence at the crucifixion was noted in John’s Gospel. And in the last moments before His death, Jesus made sure to arrange care for his mom (John 19:25-27). 

Praise God the story doesn’t end with a weeping widow next to her dying son. Three days later, He rose from the dead and displayed the culmination of the Greatest Story Ever Told that started in the Garden of Eden itself. Because of these holy events in the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Christ; we have the opportunity to live with God in perfect peace forever. 

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices indeed.

As we celebrate and close out another calendar year, may we too treasure and ponder our own moments in light of the Greatest Story. 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, friends!

Oh hi. I feel a little like a kid on the first day back at middle school…

I haven’t been here in so long.

Will I remember my way around?

Are any of my friends still here?

Will they be glad to see me?

Oh no; are gauchos back in style? (I am really showing my age with that one.)

Last time I wrote anything in this space, I was surviving the newborn days. Since then, we got pregnant again. We bought, renovated, and added on to my parents’ old rental house. We rehomed our beloved dog. We sold our home of the past 8 years, packed up, and moved into that renovated house in a different part of town. We unpacked all of our boxes as I chased two kiddos (who seemingly never run out of energy).

Thrown into this Summer of Change were a couple of birthdays, ER trips, heat warnings, and dropped naps (this one may not sound like a big deal but let me assure you that IT VERY MUCH IS). We had baby #3 in July, and now I’m in the midst of the newborn days once again (If you’re keeping track, that’s 3 babies in the span of 3 years, which means we are immensely blessed but also very tired).

If it appears that I’m making excuses as to why I haven’t written anything…. that’s exactly what I’m doing. But I also wanted to share because I realize that seasons change. I know that sounds rather obvious, but when you are in the midst of a certain season—whether it is really hard or busy or you’re going through big life changes—sometimes it seems as though that particular season will last forever.

You can’t envision making it to the other side because you’re just trying to make it through the day. You may not be able to do what you want because you are required to do the things you must do. Maybe it feels like you are drowning under the daily demands or frustrated with the lack of family time. Maybe you are in between jobs or navigating life as a new mom or your kids just moved out of the house. These seasons of uncertainty and survival and heartaches won’t last forever. We will grow and adapt, learn and move forward as we march toward our eternal hope. 

I haven’t always embraced these seasons well. But looking back, there was so much for me to learn in those hard-to-embrace seasons. God’s fingerprints can be found all over them: as a newlywed in new (and lonely) places, as a wife deemed infertile, as a brand-new mom in the midst of a global pandemic (just to name a few).

So while I have been itching to show up in this space for the past year, I have had to take a step back in this season. To allow time and space for life (quite literally) to grow in all of its messy glory. To love on these tiny humans that the Lord has entrusted us. To rest and recover during those rare moments of quiet instead of reaching for my computer.

Slowly but surely, I am coming out of the pregnancy-brain-fog/moving/house-renovation-marathon that has consumed me, and entering into a new season. One where I can pick up my real camera more often, write things down, and move my body faster than a strained waddle (prayers for all of the pregnant mamas in the summer heat of the South).

…

While I am eager to pull out the cozy sweaters and (re)watch Gilmore Girls to embrace the slightest hint of fall in the air, I’m still not entirely sure how to truly embrace the life season that I am in. I often find myself longing for a full night of sleep or for the boys to be able to wipe their own bottoms. I would love to jump back into design work, but I still don’t know if that’ll happen anytime soon. I wish I could sit down and write a full thought before naptime is over or the baby needs to eat again (I find myself thinking, “Maybe this post will be sent out by the time my youngest is in Kindergarten?”)

But I also know these days will go by in a hurried blur if I don’t stop to enjoy the moments, both big and small. I know (all too well) that these babies won’t stay babies forever. I know that seasons change, whether we are ready for the next chapter or not. I know that everyday faithfulness matters. I know that God has me here for a purpose. And I know, deep in my bones, that He will give me strength for today and hope for tomorrow. So I guess that’s the first step of embracing, right?

What does embracing your season look like for you? Maybe it looks like choosing to notice. Choosing to laugh. Setting down your phone. Giving into grace. Praying instead of worrying. Booking the trip. Canceling the plans. Looking people in the eyes. Taking time to grieve. Taking time to heal. Taking a deep breath before taking the time to discipline. Taking the long way home to see the tree with the bright yellow leaves.

It probably looks like being faithful with what you have been given.

Let’s start now—today, right where we are. However imperfectly, let’s embrace the season we are in. With an eye toward eternity and a step toward doing the next right thing. As for me, I’m off to pull out the crayons for my oldest and rock a fussy baby.

 …

From an old English parsonage down by the sea
There came in the twilight a message to me;
Its quaint Saxon legend, deeply engraven,
Hath, it seems to me, teaching from Heaven.
And on through the doors the quiet words ring
Like a low inspiration: “DO THE NEXT THING.”

Many a questioning, many a fear,
Many a doubt, hath its quieting here.
Moment by moment, let down from Heaven,
Time, opportunity, and guidance are given.
Fear not tomorrows, child of the King,
Trust them with Jesus, do the next thing

Do it immediately, do it with prayer;
Do it reliantly, casting all care;
Do it with reverence, tracing His hand
Who placed it before thee with earnest command.
Stayed on Omnipotence, safe ‘neath His wing,
Leave all results, do the next thing.

Looking for Jesus, ever serener,
Working or suffering, be thy demeanor;
In His dear presence, the rest of His calm,
The light of His countenance be thy psalm,
Strong in His faithfulness, praise and sing.
Then, as He beckons thee, do the next thing.

-Author Unknown (popularized by Elisabeth Elliot)

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It’s been a minute since I’ve written anything (besides a grocery list). I spent the last nine months growing a baby while fighting off illness after illness (3 stomach bugs with a side of the Virus-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) and the last month keeping a newborn and very active toddler alive, which has used all of my energy and any remaining brain cells.

My days still mostly consist of nursing a newborn and refereeing toddler tantrums. I’m not even embarrassed that my shirt is covered in spit up and my floors with figurines…or that the only songs on my Spotify consist of nursery rhymes and Disney soundtracks. Finding time to write requires the stars (nap times) aligning and remembering where my computer is (both easier said than done).

A couple of weeks ago while Kevin was on paternity leave, we were reheating leftover pizza in the oven for lunch. When the oven timer went off, he walked over to the microwave and stared at the empty space, blinking slowly like a sleepy newborn himself. I guided him to the oven, where the food awaited and gently (okay, maybe sarcastically) reminded him that the baking sheet would be hot. I can neither confirm nor deny that he rolled his eyes dramatically when he grabbed an oven mitt.

I think that instance is a pretty accurate depiction of where we are…we’re functioning but not quite all there.

On a deep and personal level, I am understanding why they use sleep deprivation as a torture tactic.

And yet… in between the exhaustion and brain fog and middle-of-the-night feedings, I am wildly grateful. Completely enamored by childbirth and motherhood and curly-haired toddlers. Utterly humbled by how hard-but-beautiful these days can be. These are the very days I prayed for, but that doesn’t mean they are always easy.

It does mean that thankfulness and sinful thoughts are often competing, like the superhero and villain of my mind. It does mean that I am often reminded of my need for Christ and community and (quite possibly) an extra cup of coffee.  

Ultimately, these newborn days alert me (like a siren blaring into the night): How weak I am, how strong He is.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Often, survival mode turns into surrender mode. Breaking points turn into the breaking of chains. Impatient interactions turn into humbled hearts. At least, I hope they do. I hope that my insufficiencies continue to open my eyes to Christ’s sufficiency. I pray that forgiveness is peeking around the corner following angry accusations. That His all-consuming glory greets me each day despite my selfishness and sarcasm and sleep deprivation.

Once again (and again and again)— His mercies are new every morning. I rest in that honest-to-goodness truth while I fold the laundry and wipe the faces and change the diapers. I may not have the capacity to sit and read Scripture for hours on end in this season, but I recite prayers as if I am taking breaths. I know I need the God that I’m praying to as I need that next breath. I know I will keep coming up short, but still He remains faithful.

There’s no lightning bolt from the sky or audible voice from above, but there is strength for today and hope for tomorrow. There is His Holy Word which meets me in the deepest places of my heart, the once-memorized verses now embedded there. There is grace and forgiveness and His redeeming love.

So those are my jumbled, half-complete thoughts for the day. Thank God that my feeble humanity points to His holiness.

He is enough. And we are not.

We can’t do it all. But Christ has done it all.

It is finished.

Well, I’m off to snuggle a crying baby and repeat this prayer: God, I need you. May there be less of me, more of Jesus in me.

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LOVING LATELY

Here are a few things that are helping me survive this newborn stage while also raising a toddler! (This is not your typical 'newborn essentials' list- I think there's only one actual baby product, so even if you're not in the same season of life, you may still find some of these recs helpful).
Also: I make zero dollars from these links and not affiliated with these companies in any way.

Kindle App
Through this app, you can read your books directly on your phone. This has been my go-to for those late night feedings/rocking to sleep, and I've found it to be so much better than scrolling social media or online shopping (although I still do plenty of both). See a few book recs below if you need some new reads!

Photo + Video Organization System
I have approximately one jillion photos and videos on my phone, and it quickly becomes overwhelming if I just leave them all sitting there like neglected little time capsules. My "system" is not exactly ground-breaking, but it does help me preserve sweet memories and captured smiles without succumbing to digital defeat (my life is cluttered enough, please and thank you).

So here's what I do:

-about every two weeks, I go through my most recent phone photos and save my favorites to a separate album (typically I just favorite them with the little heart button). Then I edit those with the (free) Lightroom App. There are so many tutorials out there on how to use this/make your own presets or you can purchase some and edit the photo with one click (I like to use the mobile presets by Sena Nelson). I also often do this during feeding/rocking time.

-once a month(ish), I go through those edited photos from the past month and move them over to the respective folder on my computer. I have a "2022" folder and then 12 separate monthly folders titled "Jan," "Feb," "March," etc.

-at the end of the year, I create a hard copy photo album through Artifact Uprising (I always make them the same size & color so they can easily stack together on our coffee table: 8.5"x8.5" in "parchment")

-for the kids' birthdays, milestones, and/or trips, I combine/edit my favorite video clips (from that year/day/place) through InShot and put it to a song...that way we have our own little montage of memories without having to watch each individual video which usually gets lost in the shuffle. Then I create a separate "videos" folder under the 2022 folder and move over those highlight videos there. I also might move over a few other full unedited videos for keepsakes but leave the rest on my phone or delete them.

I typically keep the current year's folder on my computer along with last year's, and the rest of the yearly folders are stored on a separate hard drive. I know a lot of people use the (digital) Google photo albums which seem to work well for storage too!

That may seem like a lot of steps, but it's actually pretty seamless as long as I keep up the maintenance. It definitely takes a little longer when I get a few months behind (which happens), but I think it's so worth it to take the time to organize/print those photos in keepsake books. We have a book for every year we've been married, and they are so fun to look back on. We also love going back to watch the highlight videos, and they are great to send to family members!

Ember Mug
I think I've shared this temperature-controlled coffee mug before, but it's worth mentioning again here because it's truly one of my favorite things. If you have babies in the house, then you know that you do not have time to sit down and drink a full cup of coffee... and microwaved coffee may get the job done, but it's not very pleasant. *In enters the Ember to save the day* If you drink coffee, this is THE move. Kevin also has the travel mug (which I've occasionally been stealing).

House of Noa Mat
We often get asked about our "rug" in our sunroom/playroom until people step on it and realize it's actually a padded play mat. There's not a day that goes by where I'm not laying on the floor, so I've been very grateful for this padded (& cute) mat. We have the starlight design in sand castle.

Solly Baby Wrap
This baby carrier is a life-saver when my newborn won't nap and my toddler wants to be very toddler-ish (wanting me to dance with her to Lion King, run around in circles, play outside, etc.)

(Screen-Free) Music Toy Box
Our two-year-old got this for her birthday, and it has been a hit. It's truly the best toy we own and kept her occupied for almost an entire 4-hour road trip. They sell a ton of different characters, so I think it will grow with her as well depending on what movie/books she likes in the next season (It's definitely more for 2 years+).

BOOKS.
Parenting by Paul David Tripp

Mama Bear Apologetics by Hillary Morgan Ferrer
Loving the Little Years by Rachel Jankovic

// Originally published on TerriPrahl.com //

I’m really familiar with waiting. Like up-close-and-personal kind of familiar. Like you’ve-seen-all-the-worst-parts-of-me kind of familiar. Waiting and I—we’re not exactly friends, but I don’t think we’re enemies either. We’ve been in a few rough fights, but I’ve learned to appreciate her too. We’re like middle school buddies who’ve become adults. We may not see eye to eye all the time, but she knew me when I wore bright blue eyeshadow and went through that Zac Efron obsession, and I knew her when she covertly binged Laguna Beach even though she wasn’t allowed to watch MTV. (This is all hypothetical, of course, and not at all experienced scenarios.) 

 But we’ll always have that thing, you know? We’ve hit the lowest of lows together, and we’ve come out on the other side in one piece (for the most part). Hindsight tells me to thank God for the waiting; for it was in the waiting where He made me a warrior. 

…

My worst fight with waiting involved a lot of negative pregnancy tests, needles, and prayers. It involved a lot of question-asking and tear-crying and heart-breaking. But I also had some good times with waiting, too. I desperately reached for God in a way I hadn’t before. I laughed so much it hurt. I grew thankful for the small-but-beautiful moments that otherwise might have gone unnoticed.

 For me, I think the hardest thing with waiting is the not-knowing. 

When will this end?

How will this end?

How is God going to use this?

It’s in those middle, in-between moments where I find myself regressing in frustrated impatience. And then I get frustrated at myself because of my frustration in a weird, downward spiral that is not entirely becoming.

I think, “If I am following Jesus, shouldn’t I be able to wait in a peaceful and patient manner? I should be better at this by now. I am the actual worst.” (This is a very logical thought process, obviously.) As my inner monologue starts to go in a dangerous and doubtful direction, I get a little (or a lot) panicky.  

But then, like a good father picking up his small-and-scared little girl, the Lord faithfully leads me back to Himself. He lets me ask the questions and then turns me in the right direction. I just have to follow, step by step. 

The main way God healed many of my waiting wounds was through Scripture. I opened up the Bible when I didn’t feel like it, and He gently reoriented my perspective. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, His Word washed over me and gave me life, purpose, and hope.

“but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; 
they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint.”

— Isaiah 40:31

We “shall run and not grow weary” not because of our own power, but because we are resting in His power. We “shall walk and not faint” and “renew [our] strength” not because of what we have done, but because we are relying on what the Lord has done.  

… 

Through Scripture, the Lord showed me not to wait on circumstances, necessarily, but to wait on HIM. Because as we lift our gazes off ourselves and onto our Savior, we can’t help but grow in patient contentment. This is how we wrestle through the difficult moments. This is how we persevere through the hard things. This is how we wait well. We must keep looking to the God of the Bible, over and over again.

We won’t do this perfectly, of course. And Lord knows it won’t always be easy, breezy, or beautiful (unlike a Cover Girl ad). We will definitely trip over our own desires and get somewhat sidetracked sometimes. We will continue to have occasional thought spirals that are not true. 

But we can keep coming back to this truth: God’s timing and plans have always been—and will always be—perfect and good. We can’t always see the beautiful masterpiece the Lord is painting, but He intimately knows every detail, color, and stroke. Do I sometimes wish that it was more of a paint-by-number situation? Sure. But I’m not the Master Artist; He is. 

…

As I look back on my hardest wait yet, I can see more of His masterpiece. It’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. The wrestling of the wait revealed a wondrous work. 

Maybe you’re in the messy middle of a difficult waiting season right now. Or maybe you find yourself antsy and frustrated in the everyday waits you find yourself in: checkout lines, traffic lights, holds with those not-always-friendly customer service representatives.

I see you and have a word of encouragement for you today, friend: 

Even though your wait may seem like an inconvenience, it’s really an invitation. An invitation to grow in patience. An invitation to rely on Jesus. An invitation to slow down and surrender to the God who’s got it all figured out. 

Let’s halt our hurry and watch the Lord use our times of wait for His glory!