When I was little, I always said that I wanted to be a teacher or a missionary someday. I think that God, in His wonderful lovingkindness, has allowed me to be both. You see, as a girl, I thought that to be a missionary I had to go overseas to a foreign land to share the gospel with those who’d never heard a word of it. And while the world needs missionaries who are called to leave their homes, their families, and their comfort zones to preach the gospel into all nations, we need people at home who will proclaim God’s love just as much.
Because the truth is, everyone who doesn’t have Jesus needs Him the same.
It doesn’t matter what your nationality is, what language you speak, or what age you are. If you don’t have Jesus, you need Him. The elderly man who has lived a life full of family and work and friends needs Jesus just as much as the busy mother who is struggling to keep her head above the churning waters of kids and appointments and housecleaning. The teenager who has gone “too far” in just about every way needs Jesus just as much as the innocent little boy who is beginning to realize that the Jesus of “Jesus Loves Me” is real. Everyone who doesn’t have Him needs Him.
How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? Romans 10:14
As Christians, we are called to share Jesus with others. Because any person that doesn’t have Jesus needs to have Him. How will they know, friends, if we don’t share?
So what does it look like to share the love of Jesus? I’m sure some of you, like me, are thinking about knocking on doors and giving out tracts and saying carefully planned speeches about the gospel. This way of sharing can be very helpful, but I have experienced that neighbors don’t always want to open their doors when a group comes knocking (I don’t) and even the most rehearsed speeches can fly out the window when the situation becomes real.
I think that God paves the way for us to share about Him in all sorts of ways. He can use any situation that we are in for His good.
He uses our kindness to show His love.
He uses our words to show His love.
He uses our lifestyle to show His love.
He uses our work to show His love.
He uses our mistakes to show His love.
I am not eloquent. I am not outgoing. When I see a new person in my day, I usually feel a tug to go and speak to them and every time I try to fight it. They don’t remember me. They don’t want to talk to me. I don’t know what to say to them. I’ve got too much to do. They don’t know me. I almost always mess up. But He uses me anyway to share His love with others. As long as I am willing.
My church had an incredible guest preacher last week who reminded us about sharing the love of Christ with others. That’s what we’ve been called to do as Christians, right?
“Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.” Jesus knew where you would be born, what nation you would pledge your allegiance to, what region you would reside in, and what neighborhood you would call home. He knew the people that you would share a house with and who you would share a workspace with day in and day out. And if you’re a Christian, He called you to make disciples of everyone. Because everyone who doesn’t have Jesus needs Him the same.
Don’t worry if you think you are not smart enough, or eloquent enough, or “holy” enough. Don’t worry if He really is calling you overseas; or if He is calling you to minister to those closest to you. Don’t worry if you don’t think you have the words, the circumstances, or the past choices to make you a great candidate for sharing His love. Because it’s really not our job to actually make a person accept Christ. We are not the saviors. We are the sharers. We plant the seeds. He waters and makes them take root.
Jesus knew when He called us to preach the gospel that we would feel inadequate. He knew that we would be nervous and afraid. But He also knew that we’d be covered with His righteousness, and that He’d be able to take our efforts and use them for His good. So after He told us to share Him with the nations, He left us with this beautiful promise…
“And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28:16-20)
By the way, if you are reading this today and you are not a Christian, you can become one right now. If you are ready to give your life to Christ and receive His forgiveness for your sins, all you have to do is as simple as A, B, C. Pray to Him now (in your heart or in an audible voice–He hears) and Admit to Him that you are a sinner. Tell Him you are sorry and that you need Him to forgive you and cleanse you from sin. Beleive that Jesus is God’s only Son, sent to earth to save us from our sins. Confess Him as your Savior and Lord and commit to living for Him from now on. When you sincerely pray this prayer, He will save you. You will become a Christian. This doesn’t mean that you will be perfect from now on. It doesn’t mean your life will be perfect, either. But you will have a joy and a peace that you may not even understand! Tell someone. Find a local church that will celebrate with you and grow with you. I am so happy for you in this decision! I would love to know if you prayed this prayer.
When Jesus enters your life, He will make you whiter than snow no matter how black your past is. This is one of my favorite songs and reminds me every time of the transforming power of Jesus’ love. Take a listen!
One day my sister and I took our bevy of boys to a local fast food restaraunt. Let me just say, we can’t sneak up on anyone. We came barreling in and the boys set the world record for the quickest eating time in a restaraunt in order to go play! Of course, Amy and I didn’t mind too much…this meant we could eat and talk to each other and actually hear each other for a change!
But it was not to be. My little Peyton, who was three at the time, began screaming after about a minute. Amy and I rushed into the play area to find him at the very top of the “tower”, as he called it. You see, there was this set of landings spaced about 2 feet on top of each other and Peyton had climbed to the very top (it was pretty high) and was convinced that he was stuck. He was dangling from the top with his eyes squeezed shut.
Amy and I looked at each other. I’d just had surgery, so my five-foot-eleven sister got to climb into the tower after Peyton. She broke another world record for being on so many landings at one time as she folded her long legs and tried to climb to the top. And guess what she saw when she got to Peyton? His feet were centimeters from a solid landing. He was hanging on for dear life with a white-knuckled grip, too afraid to look down and realize that solid ground was right beneath his feet.
“Peyton, just let go. Your feet are about to touch the ground.”
Really? Big sigh. Pounding heart calms down. He lets go. He realizes he is safe and keeps on playing. All is good. Well, except Amy has to figure out how to unfold from the miniature play tower and I now “owe her one”. Other than that, all is great!
Sometimes I am just like Peyton in that play tower. I climb through my life all by myself, thinking I’ve got a strong foothold. I push away the One who tries to help me. I inflict wounds upon myself from my errors. And then I get stuck. I think I’m going to fall. To fail.
I start yelling for help. And the Lord whispers, “Paige, let go. Solid ground is under your feet.”
How often do we think we are falling when solid ground is right underneath us? How often do we not heed His voice when we are panicking because of our own mistakes?
I do it all the time, friends. But here’s something I know without a doubt. No matter how many times I fail, no matter how many times I need rescued, He is always there to pick me up, dust me off, and make me new again. He is there ready to catch me, reminding me to just loosen my grip and fall onto His solid ground. He rescues me, He loves me in spite of me.
I am a wayward child, focused on myself most of the time. Sometimes I feel like I am constantly telling Him, “I’m sorry. I’m going to do better.” But then, the next day, I get into the same messes again. How many times have I promised Him I would change?
But as many times as I mourn over my own mistakes, as many times as I think that I’ll never be enough, He reminds me that in everything I do He fills in all the broken peices with His love. He loves me in spite of me.
I am so thankful for a Father who loves me despite the mistakes I make. I’m thankful that I’m covered by His mercy and grace. I’m thankful that He is there to remind me that solid ground is just beneath my feet!
Listen to In Spite of Me, words and music by Paige Givens, copyright 2015
Then people brought little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked them.Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there. Matthew 19:13-15
You know He was busy. He was tired. He was being pulled in every possible direction by all of these humans He had come to save. Earlier in Matthew 19, the Bible says that Jesus traveled from Galilee to Judea and that large crowds followed Him around. And do you know what He did for the large crowds that followed Him around? Jesus healed them. Matthew 19 doesn’t go into detail about what kind of healings were performed, but we know from other chapters that Jesus healed the lame, made words for those who couldn’t speak, made the blind to see, and He cleansed the lepers.
While Jesus was healing and preaching, some Pharisees came along and did the thing that Pharisees did. They began to “test” Jesus with questions about marriage and divorce, hoping to catch Him in the net of their rules, strictness, and rigidity. The questions flew. The air became thick with tension. The disciples began to fidgit. There was confusion and worry, but not in the heart of Jesus. With a steady breath, He used the Word of God to dissipate the stress that was piling up, effectively silencing the Pharisees and teaching the disciples in one fell swoop.
And then, in the midst of the large crowds who wanted healing, the Pharisees who wanted drama, and the disciples who wanted instruction, came the children.
I mean, the timing here. It’s like my everyday, just with different circumstances, but always with the children.
Does it not seem like the kids in our lives dance into our most “busy” situations with drums, trumpets, toys, madness, and no clue of the “important” stress that they are interrupting?
It’s inevitable that when we are piled up with bills, arguments, the top news stories of the day, making dinner, folding cloths, and putting some semblance or order in our house that our children want the most important part of us. Not just a wink, a wave, or a shallow little “mmhmm” wrapped up all pretty like a piece of candy. No, they want the real nourishment that comes from having the best of us.And they want it now, in the midst of it all!
So back to Jesus. In the midst of the crowds, the riddles, and the questions, some people brought their little children to Him in hopes that He would pray for them and lay hands on them.
Consider the ones who brought the children.
A mother nervously twists her hands around inside her shawl. Her son has already been checked over by physicians and healers, only to be brushed aside as a hopeless case. But Jesus…Jesus can heal…
A brother has now come into being responsible for his younger siblings, maybe due to losing his parents too soon. How will he raise them? He can’t care for them, but he promised he would. Where is the hope for a future? Will this Jesus help?
A father keeps his eyes down on his dusty sandals. He’s not worthy to be in the company of this Jesus, let alone ask Him to bless his children. But maybe, just maybe, Jesus is what they say He is, and a better life is in store for the precious little ones who are running and stumbling towards Him.
I imagine the children took off towards the Savior with abandon to the worries and fears that plagued their parents.
And then…”Stop! Can’t you see He’s too busy for you right now?”
With a few words, the children were introduced instantly to the misgivings that accompany adulthood. They weren’t welcomed. There was no time for them. Jesus was too busy.
Maybe the parents began to quickly gather them up, apologizing with embarrased eyes, silently berating themselves for thinking that Jesus would have time for something so…unimportant.
But Jesus restored order in His perfect way. “Let these children come to me. The kingdom of heaven belongs to such as them.” And He layed His hands on them.
Jesus didn’t just give them a quick little word, a funny joke, an absentminded “mmhmm” while they opened up to Him. He layed His hands on them. And whatever it was that they needed, they instantly received it from Him on that day. He wasn’t too busy. He wasn’t too tired.
He was available.
The work waited. The bible says when He had placed His hands on them and blessed them, He went on from there and continued His work. The work had waited.
Lord, am I always available to the precious ones you have placed in my life? Am I too busy with the cares of this world–the house, my job, the bills, my phone– to pour Your love into my children through my actions and my heart?
I am guilty of thinking I am too busy to stop and look at my children while they are talking to me. I am guilty of fussing at them for saying “Mama!” over and over when they want to tell me every detail of the day. I am guilty of telling them to “hold on” while I scroll through my emails on my phone. Have you done these things, too, friends?
What does Jesus think about my children? He loves them enough that He died for them, even knowing the sins that they would commit. I wonder how He feels when I am too “busy” for the ones that He gave His life for?
I am guilty. But Jesus is forgiving. And He can change me into the Mama that my kids think I am. He can change me into being more like Him.
Let me be more like Jesus today. Let me welcome my children into my arms no matter how busy I may be. The “work” can wait. Because “the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these…”
My friend Sherry and her husband John have four extraordinary daughters. You don’t have to look very far to find out where the four daughters’ extraordinary qualities come from…just look at their parents! John is the Sunday School teacher for my group at church, and each week he faithfully takes us deeper and deeper into the Word. Sherry is always willing to help in any area, but especially with teaching children. And she does far more than just covering the teaching material. She goes above and beyond to make the Bible become real and inspiring to the children in our church.
Here are Sherry’s words of how God used her four extraordinary daughters to remind her of His plan for her life, as well as her family’s.
This is Sherry’s story.
“And so, Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in You.” Psalm 39:7 I was saved at a young age and drifted away from the Lord in my teen years. I became a teen mom. My first daughter, Hope, was born. I went through a period of depression as I was finding my way back to the Lord. God is faithful and He brought me back to Himself with open arms. Isaiah 44:22 “I have wiped out your transgressions like a thick cloud And your sins like a heavy mist. Return to Me, for I have redeemed you.”
1 Corinthians 13:4a. “Charity suffereth long, and is kind.” A couple of years later we were blessed with another baby…Charity. Shortly after she was born, I was given a shot at the doctors office which caused me to be unable to stand. My vision became fuzzy, my thinking cloudy, and my speech slurred. My muscles tensed and would not relax. No doctor could find the cause or offer any hope. However, I had Hope in the Lord. He provided me with Charity (love) when I had no control over my circumstances. Over the years my symptoms improved and simple seizures remain. Psalm 28:7a “The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in Him, and I am helped.”
Heb. 11:1 “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Years later we were expecting again. However, the baby was not thriving. We arrived at the hospital to undergo a DNC after testing revealed no heartbeat and blood tests showed the pregnancy was not viable. As soon as we arrived, the nurse decided to run one more unscheduled test and found a heartbeat. We were given Faith, our third daughter, in our time of need. Luke 1:37 “For nothing will be impossible with God.”
2 Corinthians 12:9 “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Five years later, we were blessed with our fourth child. The baby was diagnosed in utero as having only one partially functioning kidney. The other kidney was an unformed mass of cysts and tissue. Surgery was imminent. The outcome was bleak. We prayed for her to have two kidneys at birth. We prayed that there would be no surgery. When the baby was born she did have two kidneys. However, the doctors said she would need one kidney removed and a portion of the other removed as well. She had cysts in her bladder which could block her kidneys and those must be removed too. Because of our reluctance, the surgeon agreed to wait and watch the situation. She continued to improve dramatically, astounding the doctors. Today, Lilah Grace has two functioning kidneys. Both kidneys are normal size. As for the bladder cysts, one disappeared completely, and the other shrank to a minimal size. No surgery has been performed. She is on no medication. By God’s grace the doctors say she is very remarkable. Lamentations 3-22-23 “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”
Throughout everything, God has given us His Grace to hold on to Hope in order to trust Him in Faith, while He wrapped us in His love (Charity).
Words can be like blueberries. We need to wait for just the right time to share them, whether through spoken word, written word, or song. If we pick them too early, they will be bitter and will leave a bad taste in the mouth. If we ignore them and leave them on the bush, they’ll simply wither up or fall to the ground without ever getting the chance to share their sweetness.
My boys love to pick blueberries. I love to share words. Lately, I’ve been saying to them over and over, “Wait! They’re not ready yet! They’ll be yucky!”
This is also good for the one who wants to share words. I believe that God has perfect timing, and He will order our steps and direct us on when to share words for His purpose.
This weekend, I’m going to a songwriting conference led by a hero of mine, Gloria Gaither. Talk about a wordsmith! Gloria, along with another writing mentor of mine, Reba McGuire, sure knows when the perfect words are ripe for the picking.
I think in my excitement and anticipation of this weekend’s events, I am remembering a story I wrote last year at Reba’s Writing Room. I’ve wanted to share it for awhile, but the words just weren’t ready yet.
Now, with time, with cultivation, and with summer just waiting to breath upon us, the story is ready to share!
Happy writing, happy summer, and happy blueberry picking!
By the way…”Blueberries will be ready for picking in late July-mid August. Don’t rush to pick the berries as soon as they turn blue. Wait a couple days. When they are ready, they should fall off right into your hand.” Blueberries – Old Farmer’s Almanac
Blueberry Picking, Paige Givens, 2014
The bright yellow summer sun shone down on her shoulders as she meandered through the field of knee-high grass. The gentle breeze tapped her on the shoulder and beckoned her to come and play. Wouldn’t it be fun to make flower bracelets and necklaces? Wouldn’t a ride on the swing in the cool shade be the perfect way to spend this hot afternoon? Wouldn’t a splash in the icy creek feel good on her sun-warmed skin?
But no, not today. Today she had a job to do. It was blueberry picking time. Granny said to bring back a full pail if she wanted to help make the jam, and she’d never been entrusted with the pail alone before. Getting to make jam with Granny would be better than making a hundred flower bracelets and necklaces. It’d be more fun than swinging as high as that old wooden swing could fly. Granny’s “good job” would feel better than the coolest of waters over her skin.
So she continued her trek, past the weathered red barn with the new litter of barn kittens, the old tree that kept her childish secrets, past the garden that baked in the afternoon heat. The trip was so much longer when she was alone. But she kept on. She had a job to do. It was blueberry picking time. Finally, she spotted the cluster of fat blueberry bushes at the edge of the fence. Their limbs were sagging with heavy loads of berries. Ping. Ping. Ping. She sighed. The bucket was so much bigger when she was alone. Filling it would take a long time and a lot of picking. But Granny had said to bring back a full pail if she wanted to make jam.
The pings gradually turned to thuds as the pail lost its emptiness. Her fingers and lips stained blue, she hefted up her prize and began the journey back to Granny’s. Past the garden that was just now receiving a gift of shade, past the old tree that kept her childish secrets, past the weathered red barn that seemed to wink at her proudly for a job well done.
The pail was so much heavier when she was alone. It didn’t matter, though. Granny said to bring back a full pail if she wanted to make jam, and she’d never been entrusted with the pail alone before…
I have two precious boys that call me mommy. They love me with abandon, and I love them with my entire heart. They are the apple of my eye and they are their daddy’s best buddies.
My two treasures are as different as night and day.
Parker is eight and is a rule follower to the core. He walks the line with ferociousness, but that’s about as ferocious as he gets! Parker is quiet, and he inherited a shyness from his mother that is hard to get rid of. Shyness is not always a good friend. It sticks close to us as a friend does, but it inhibits us from the things we love at times. It invites insecurity, doubt, and fear into our minds and hearts. Shyness is something I struggle with to this day and my little sweet Parker has the same disposition. Parker is so smart. He has a wonderful memory and usually has to hear something just once to remember it.
Peyton is six and follows whatever beat his little drum is making at the moment. He is full of sweetness and sunshine all day. Peyton is not shy! He loves to perform, whether it is on a stage or the soccer field (Oh, are we playing a soccer game right now? Sorry, I was too busy singing to the parents on the sideline!). Peyton loves to learn and he loves school. His face is so content and engaged when he is listening to his teachers. He looks just like his daddy, and, according to his Meme, acts just like his daddy did when he was a little boy. 🙂
I remember when we were expecting Parker, everyone gave us so much good advice and many words of wisdom…and words of warning. Be ready to give up sleep for awhile. Get him on a schedule right away—it’ll be easier for all of you. Start reading to him while he’s in the womb, and while you’re at it, play classical music for him while he’s in there. Pray for him. Start a journal for him. Start a college fund for him. Raise him up in the admonition of the Lord.
I smiled and nodded and agreed. Yes, I was ready to give up sleep for my baby. I was praying for him daily. I bought books for him all the time—his library was already full. I had his schedule ready to go. He was sure to follow it. I was ready. After all, I was a teacher. I was used to kids, right? Oh, and I had another bonus on my part–I had been a daycare worker! That’s right, I had worked at a wonderful daycare all through college and had even been in the nursery. Motherhood, watch out, I was about to conquer.
I remember the day he was born like it was this morning. I remember the contractions that I’d waited nine months for. They were painful, but they were bringing my baby boy closer to my arms. I remember the epidural “not taking” the first time, and not getting a second try with it until about 8 centimeters. And then, when I realized the epidural had worked the second time, thinking I was home free. Until the nurse said he was breech I’d be having a c-section! I had Parker twenty minutes later. I’d waited for nine long months, and now he was suddenly here in a matter of minutes.
My family came from all over. Really, it was like they came out of the woodwork. There were hoards of them, all ready to greet this baby. They were in the lobby and the halls, snapping pictures and cheering. They flowed into the room and gathered around him in his warmer, taking pictures and talking about how perfect he was. They loved him already. My sister came over to me and said “He’s beautiful! Hey… do you want me to fix your hair?” I realized that I looked like a train wreck at that moment and needed a little fixing up!
And then, they left. Chris was exhausted and took a nap. And it was just me and Parker. Someone had rolled his little bed up right beside me. I couldn’t reach over and get him to hold him, so I just looked at him. And he stared back at me. And it was like he knew. He knew what I suddenly realized. That I had no clue what a mother was supposed to do. I wasn’t prepared, even thought I had thought I was. I didn’t know what I was doing!
When Parker was born, I dealt with a lot of insecurities about being a mom. I worried that I wasn’t feeding him enough, that I wasn’t reading to him enough, that I wasn’t giving him enough time on his belly. I worried that I wasn’t holding him enough, then I worried that I was holding him too much. I worried that he was too hot, then I worried that he was too cold. And I couldn’t even begin to think of what I’d do when he got sick. I was, essentially, a mess.
I did have enough presence of mind to pray. I prayed for Parker, as so many people had reminded me to do. I prayed for Chris, who was way more level-headed about bringing up babies than I was. And I prayed for myself, which was probably the best thing I could’ve done. On those nights when I just really, really wanted to sleep and Parker’s baby voice came singing into my dreams (okay- not always singing into my dreams, sometimes it was more like a foghorn into my exhaustion), I shuffled to his bed and held him and rocked him (and tried not to make eye contact with him because he was wide awake and wanting to play—I thought if I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep, he’d fall asleep, too!) and I prayed. I realized that even though I didn’t feel like a mother who knew what to do, I was still a mother. I asked God to help me and to show me what to do. I asked him to take my insecurities away. I told God that I would try not to take the insecurities back into my hands once they were in His. I still ask for His help in keeping my insecurities in His hands.
And God answered me in the quiet moments of the night. He reminded me that I am His. That I am who He called me to be. He called me to be Parker and Peyton’s mother, so He is equipping me to be their mother, even when I don’t feel like I’m doing a great job. He called me to be a Christ-like example to not just my boys, but to my students at school, to my friends and family , and He is equipping me daily. He called me to be a singer, a writer, and a teacher, and He is constantly equipping me to do those things. I am nothing without Him.
He also reminded me of some other things that He calls me. He calls me worthy, treasured, and pure. He calls me friend, daughter, and loved. He calls me redeemed, saved, and changed. He calls me chosen. He calls me these things even when I am, essentially, a mess.
I find myself calling my baby boy, Peyton, a “mess” sometimes. I usually use it as a term of endearment. He does seem to get into some pretty interesting scrapes.
I have lots of names for my boys. Parkie-poo. Pate-pate. Buddy. Buddy-boo. Boo. Boo-boo. Boo-bear. Lots of boo’s. Anyway, I use them because I love my boys and they are terms of endearment from me to them. My love for them is just a drop in the ocean compared to my Father’s love for me. How many terms of endearment does He have for me?
What does the Father call you? He calls you chosen. He calls you child. He calls you changed! He calls you forgiven. He calls you friend. And He is also specifically calling you to be something that is special for you. Whatever He calls you, whatever He calls you to be, He will equip you for it. He believes in you. He made you for a specific purpose, whether it is to mother, father, teach, sing, preach, serve, build, nurse, listen,…the list is endless.
In Jeremiah 1:5, God says to us “Before I shaped you in the womb, I knew all about you. Before you saw the light of day, I had holy plans for you…” (The Message). He has had a plan and a purpose for you before you were even born!
When I am feeling insecure or overwhelmed by my task at hand, He reminds me that I can be just the way He made me to be. I can go just the way He is showing me. I can be who He called me to be.
We’ve been blessed to read some wonderful stories of courage and bravery this week. We’ve seen some mamas who are extraordinarily brave!
And I know what some of you moms are thinking…”I’m not that brave.”
Yes, you are.
Everyday motherhood takes courage. I never knew just how much until I took my first son home from the hospital. The night before we left, we had a discharge session with a seasoned nurse. As she went over item after item on the “could happen” list, my heart began to pound. And I’ll never forget how I felt when she said, “Now–when he gets sick…”
This huge shadow of fear fell over me and followed me as I was wheeled out of that hospital. I looked at the world with new eyes. Every other car on the road was a threat. Every person who sneezed, who touched my baby, who got close to my baby was a potential germ-carrier!
Fear can consume us if we are not careful. We live in a sin-filled world. Even today, if I let myself think about the “what-ifs” of the future for my boys, I can be overcome with gloom and fear.
So how do we push past the fear? What’s the answer to a courageous, fulfilling life?
God and His Word.
If God is the center of our lives, we have nothing to fear. He cares about every detail of your motherhood, your family, your life. Even the little things that you’re embarrassed to admit scare you–He cares about those, too. He wants to comfort you, to shine His light on the bravery that He has placed deep down inside you for the purpose He has planned in your life!
So when I start on a task He has set before me, I do it with bravery. And I have to ask for courage–a lot! Whether it’s teaching a new class, meeting new people, singing in front of a whole bunch of folks…or whether it’s letting my boy go out on the soccer field on his own. Whether it’s letting my little one try something new knowing he could possibly fail. It takes courage.
When my fears start getting the best of me, I do exactly what Philippians 4:8 says. “Brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.” (NIV)
Mamas, we may look pretty ordinary. We may lead what others call an “uneventful” life. We may do tasks that others would turn their nose up towards. We may be excited over things we once thought were kind of boring.
But God has given us some of His greatest treasures–His children, our children! He has entrusted us to cultivate His Spirit within them, to raise them up in the Word, as part of His church! That’s a tremendous task and honor!
We are not ordinary, moms! We don’t have an ordinary story. We have courage and strength and grace that comes from our Maker Himself.
Here are just a few brave moms that I ran into during the past few days. Look at their story, celebrate their bravery!
And to let you know how many brave moms there are, I just took pictures of the first ten moms that I came in contact with. I could have used hundreds of pictures.
Happy Mother’s Day! 🙂
Leeann is a brave mama.
Leeann is known in our church as “The Baby Whisperer.” She has a heart for taking care of little ones, and they love her in return. Leeann just knows what to do when a baby is distressed for any reason. Taking care of so many babies takes courage! She is a mama to her son, daughter-in-law, and daughter.
Marti is a brave mama.
Marti is sharing words that God has placed on her heart. She is using social media as an outlet to share devotions and bible verses. Opening the doors of the heart with writing definitely takes lots of courage. She is the mama to one daughter, a son-in-law and one step-son!
Amy is a brave mama.
Amy (my big sister!) recently was the speaker for a women’s retreat. She prepared for days, weeks, and months to lead each session exactly as the Lord wanted her to. She also has led several bible studies at her church, which takes courage. She is raising two sweet little boys who love Jesus.
Kim is a brave mama.
Kim is the definition of a helper. She will do anything to help anyone, often knowing what needs to be done before it’s asked. She opens herself up to all as a helper, which takes so much courage. Kim is a mama to one daughter.
Connie is a brave mama.
Connie has led our church’s Women’s Retreat for the past few years. She is a phenomenal speaker and prayer warrior. She has relied on God for courage to help her overcome her nerves in order to share His word with countless ladies. Connie is a mama to one son and a grandmother to one granddaughter.
Pam is a brave mama.
Pam is my precious mother-in-law. She raised two boys through some hard years and those boys became wonderful men of God, one of whom I married! Pam worked so hard not only to make ends meet for her family, but also to make sure her boys knew Who they belonged to. She is one of the bravest mamas I know! She is now the mama to three boys and one daughter, and is the grandmother to eight grandbabies!
Casey is a brave mama.
Casey always has a kind word for those who come in contact with her. She is loving and accepting to everyone, which requires a lot of bravery! Casey is mama to two boys and one girl.
Ronnise is a brave mama.
Ronnise has such a quiet and gentle spirit. She is always involved in teaching children at church and has taught both of my boys in Sunday School (bravery!). Ronnise is the mama to three sweet little girls.
Stephanie is a brave mama.
Stephanie works in our church’s after school care program (courage–enough said!). She has also driven a school bus for twenty years! Stephanie is such a hard worker, and I’ve noticed her willing spirit time and time again. Stephanie is mama to two girls and one son. She is the grandmother of two sweet baby girls, one in heaven and one on earth.
Melissa is a brave mama.
My mama. She raised three daughters in the fear and admonition of the Lord (and in the fear of Mama and Daddy!). She taught us to love Jesus, to love each other, and to love music. She is the picture of courage and grace. Mama raised three girls and now is the grandmother to five boys!
This list could go on and on and on.
There is an endless supply of brave mamas, and maybe I can share their stories soon. But for now, let’s celebrate these courageous women and their bravery. Celebrate yours, too! You are a jewel in His kingdom. What’s your story?
Can I be completely honest? I fear death. I fear losing the ones I love the most to death’s grip. Even though I believe in heaven with all of my heart and I know I will see them again, thinking of the ones I love leaving me to go to heaven terrifies me. It’s something that I am striving to put into God’s hands. And He is faithfully working me through this fear. When I begin to dwell on the what if’s of this sometimes dark world, He breathes His scriptures into my heart. One of my favorites is Hosea 13:14.
“I will deliver this people from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death. Where, O death, are your plagues? Where, O grave, is your destruction? ” Hosea 13:14
This verse teaches me two things. The first is that God, through Jesus, has delivered me from eternal death. The end of this life on earth is not the end of life for me because I have accepted Jesus as my Savior. The second thing this verse promises is that death here on earth will not destroy me. Yes, it will sadden me, weaken me, and grieve me. But God’s power and grace will sustain me to not only keep living, but to live life to the fullest, the way He intends for us to live.
I have seen this in action.
Growing up in my close-knit church, Jeff and Sandra were my Sunday School teachers at one point, Training Union teachers at another point, and always were my encouragers, friends, and neighbors. This is the way of things at a church like Mt. Zion, and I was privileged to grow up this way. Everyone helps each other, uplifts each other, and stands in for one another when the needs arise.
One Wednesday night, we received a call at church, around 7 pm, that Jeff was sick and the paramedics were on their way. We prayed for him, wondering if he would have to go to the hospital. Imagine the shock, the numbness, and the disbelief when another call came to let us know that Jeff had gone on to heaven.
He was 49 years old.
My thoughts immediately went to his wife, Sandra, and their son, Jamie. What now?Why, God? How will this ever be redeemed?
But He leaves nothing unredeemed when it’s brought before Him.
Sandra’s words are so much better than mine. Her story is a story of God’s redemption and faithfulness, even in death. This is Sandra’s story, in her own words…
Jeff, my high school sweetheart and husband of 28 years, died suddenly on March 17, 2010.
I remember that day and how the events unfolded just like it was yesterday. As I was leaving work around 5:00, I called home to see if my son Jamie wanted me to bring him home a sandwich for supper and when I did he asked if I had talked to his Dad that day. When I told him I had not, Jamie replied that he thought his dad was sick so I asked to speak to him. Jamie took the phone into the bedroom and gave it to Jeff. Jeff’s speech was slurred and all he would tell me is that he didn’t feel good, he did not go to work that day, and that he was weak and dizzy. I asked if he needed to go to the doctor and he said no. I came straight home (about a 40 minute drive) and on the way I phoned Jeff’s brother, Jimmy, and asked if he would come over and help me convince Jeff to go to the doctor. I also called my dad and my cousin to let them know that Jeff was sick and I would possibly be taking him to the after-hours clinic. When I arrived home, Jamie was worried and Jeff was still in the bed, still refusing to go to the doctor or ER. Jimmy came over with a blood pressure cuff and we took Jeff’s blood pressure which was very low. Jimmy insisted that we call paramedics and they dispatched an ambulance. Before help arrived, Jeff passed out and Jimmy and I were doing CPR when they arrived. By this time my dad and cousins were there. When the paramedics arrived, I was asked to leave the room and went outside with Jamie and a cousin. We were praying when the ambulance arrived, but Jeff had already passed away and was not taken to the hospital. He died at home from a ruptured stomach ulcer.
I have so much guilt from the circumstances surrounding his death. Why didn’t I call and check with him that day? Why couldn’t I convince him to go to the doctor? Why didn’t I realize he was very sick? And I was angry . Why would God allow something so tragic to happen to me and my son? Why was Jeff so stubborn? Why did he die so young and leave me all alone? I can’t say all of my questions were magically answered, that this gut-wrenching experience was easy, or that Jamie and I have not been forever changed by what happened that day . But what I can say is this.
God never left us. He walked with us through those dark days and guided us when we didn’t know how we could go on.
The day Jeff died was a Wednesday and someone called our church to ask for special prayer for Jeff and then again to let our pastor know that he died. Our pastor and many from our church family came to our house and to my parent’s house to be with us and pray with us. It was such a shock and so unexpected and affected all of our church family. The days following were a blur – the trip to the funeral home to plan the service, the visitation time and the actual service, the outpouring of love and support from my friends at work, our church family, our relatives and mere acquaintances. I cannot honestly tell you how I made it through those days. My Mom and Dad were so supportive, from financial support to physical support and emotional support, I could not have made it without them.
A couple of weeks following the funeral service, a very dear friend invited Jamie and me to go with her and her husband to visit their son in South Carolina and we went. This trip was a much needed get away for both of us. We enjoyed their company and the time away.
As I settled back in to work (even though some days consisted of a lot of tears and not much productivity) a co-worker suggested I participate in a Grief Support Group. Having never visited or participated in such a group before and knowing I was experiencing a dark season of grief, I accepted her advice and called to sign up. While waiting for the sessions to begin, and again, in response to a suggestion from a friend at work, I contacted a counselor and began some one-on-one sessions. Both of these decisions turned out to be very beneficial for me. The private sessions allowed me to verbalize my thoughts and feelings with a non-judgmental, trained professional who was very objective in her response and assessment. The group sessions allowed me to participate with a group of people who were in the same situation I was and who were feeling the same flood of emotions and confusion I was. This was a very difficult process for me because all of the people in my grief group had their own very sad story of losing their spouse and many nights we just sat and cried together. The therapist who led the group gently, but firmly, guided us through this season and helped us realize we would have better days ahead and that we could learn to cope with the pain. I am still very close to this group of eight friends and we still stay in touch. Even though I have a very supportive family and church family it was easier for me to open up with these strangers and share with them because we were on the same journey and sharing pain together.
The first year was the hardest…
In April, I took Jamie to Starkville, Mississippi to attend orientation and Parent’s Weekend at Mississippi State University (a state away from my home in Alabama). In June, Jeff’s mother had to go into a nursing home because her Parkinson’s Disease progressed to the point that she could not be cared for at home. In July, Jeff’s brother’s daughter, Bri, was born. In August, I moved Jamie to Mississippi for school. In August , for the very first time, I began living alone. In August, I began attending a Grief Support Group.
In November, we had our first Thanksgiving without Jeff.
In December, we had our first Christmas without Jeff.
In January, I took my first trip to Gatlinburg without Jeff.
In February, Jamie and his girlfriend, Kayla, got married.
In March, we remembered the one year anniversary of Jeff’s death.
This was a lot of new and scary things for me rolled into a 12 month period. And, when I look at it now, it still scares me! But God was with me every step of the way. Through my tears and fears, I leaned on Him. And many people helped me so much, some without even knowing it. People who told me small memories of Jeff and how much he meant to them, some friends who wrote me notes and cards and included personal stories, people who hugged me randomly, but most of all, those who prayed for us and kept on praying.
Because, through all of this sadness and grief, God had a plan.
Right around the one year anniversary of Jeff’s death, I was invited to begin riding on a Commute Smart van to work and back. At first, I was not interested, but agreed to give it a trial run and decided to join up. About 2 weeks after I started riding, another new rider started, and when he introduced himself, I immediately realized he was the widower of a co-worker of mine who had recently died. I introduced myself to Ken and told him that I worked at Alabama Power and was a friend of his wife and extended my sympathy to him. Through my Sunday School teacher, who worked with Ken, I got word to him about the Grief Support Group that had been so helpful to me and offered to go with him for the first session. Ken reached out to me that August and asked if I would accompany him, which I was happy to do. The night of the first session, he picked me up from work and we had time to talk before the meeting started. We both shared our story of losing our spouse and general background info and talked about our families and how our children were coping with their loss. He was very easy to talk to and we soon found out we had a lot in common. We both had been married for around 28 years, both his wife and my husband died suddenly at 49 years old and our children were close in age. We developed a quick friendship and we soon became more than friends. I was very proud of myself that I allowed myself to fall in love again. And, when Ken started coming to church with me, I found out that several dear “church ladies” had been praying for God to send me another husband. I wasn’t praying for a husband, but they had it covered!
Ken and I got married March 3, 2012 and are very happy and blessed that God brought us together through some hard and unusual circumstances.
What have I learned? What can I share about this journey? What do I want to remind Christians about reaching out to others who are grieving? The number one truth I have learned is that we aren’t promised an easy life here on earth, we are promised that God will be with us all along the way and will carry us through the hard times if we will let Him. Secondly, our future is secure if we are Christians. God has a plan. My other thoughts/suggestions would be:
Rely on your friends to help support you when you are suffering
Don’t be afraid to take a chance to love again
Put action to your words when someone is sick or grieving
Don’t hesitate to talk about someone’s deceased loved one to them – we enjoy hearing your memories and stories
Don’t be ashamed to seek professional help or medication when needed, you can’t do this alone
It is sometimes easier to share your feelings with an uninvolved, trained counselor than with friends or family
Don’t quit going to church even if it seems hard to attend worship alone at first
Be thankful if you have a caring work group who will allow you to cry and talk when you need someone. There are some days when you do not want to “go there” and some days when your heart is full and you need to talk.
My Story, My Song 