A number of years ago, these words accompanied the news that I had an ovarian cyst that looked “suspicious.” As I grappled with the waiting for the doctor’s appointments to be scheduled, for the tests to be run and translated, my thoughts were never far from “the C word.”
Cancer? Me? But I was a mother of very young children. I couldn’t have cancer. I feared walking through the suffering of the disease. The not-knowing, the waiting clawed at me, shortened my breaths, made my heart pound hard.
Many years ago, our oldest wouldn’t wake up one morning. It wasn’t stubbornness on his part. He was feverish, lethargic, and simply couldn’t stay awake. I let him sleep. But as the clock ticked toward noon and I couldn’t rouse him even for a drink of water, my mama’s heart revved as worry dug in deep.
God allowed us to get a same-day appointment with our doctor. I hefted my unconscious boy into his office. Long story short, he thought it would be best to take Peter to the ER.
The phone rang. It was Hubs. “Honey. I’m in a bit of a panic. I’m at my first flight layover, and I can’t find my passport. Can you check my desk to see if it’s there?”
My husband, world-traveler that he is, had made this trip to the far East many times. My heart dropped when I heard his words, and I sprinted to his office. The edge of his passport peeked out from beneath a short, elevated pile of papers.
I was talking with a friend recently. We both have teenaged boys who are scraping wounds across our mama’s hearts. At times the pain is so raw I still feel like I’m bleeding.
We both like the song, “Scars” by I Am They. But neither of us feel thankful for the scars right now. As I thought about it, I believe this is okay. In the moment.
Sometimes, we’re still living in a wounded place. We’re still walking in the pain of the strikes against our hearts.
In May, I participated in a twelve-day Instagram writer’s challenge. It was both stretching and fun. We were given a different word each day and created posts about those words relating to our writer’s life.
As I contemplated each word, I discovered correlations between writing life and real-life. I’ve expanded on the original posts, and I’d love to read your thoughts on these words as they relate to your life as well. This is my final post with this series.
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Have you ever had a dream that felt so big, so out of reach, you never thought it was possible to achieve?
From the time I was fourteen, I’ve wanted to be published. I set the dream aside for decades because of . . . well, life.
And fear.
At first the idea of writing a full-length novel—with characters, plot, and setting—overwhelmed me. The fear of failure cast a large shadow in my thoughts.
And then there was the fear—of my dream never coming true.
In May, I participated in a twelve-day Instagram writer’s challenge. It was both stretching and fun. We were given a different word each day and created posts about those words relating to our writer’s life.
As I contemplated each word, I discovered correlations between writing life and real-life. I’ve expanded on the original posts, and I’d love to read your thoughts on these words as they relate to your life as well.
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Have you ever thought you knew where your path was leading, only to have it slant in another direction?
If I had to guess, most of us have experienced occasions in our lives where we thought we knew the plan, only to have it change in some way.
I thought I’d procure a teaching position straight out of college, only to work in other jobs for two years before God led me to the job He’d intended for me.
I thought Hubs and I would begin having children before I turned thirty . . . and our first child came along when I was nearly thirty-six.
In May, I participated in a twelve-day Instagram writer’s challenge. It was both stretching and fun. We were given a different word each day and created posts about those words relating to our writer’s life.
As I contemplated each word, I discovered correlations between writing-life and real-life. I’ve expanded on the original posts, and I’d love your thoughts on these words as they relate to your life as well.
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One of the biggest reasons I was never brave enough to write a book was because I had no idea what to write about. From the time the initial desire, when I was a teen, to weave a story on the page until my early forties, I struggled with the idea of writing a book.
As a teen, I wrote poetry. I journaled a ton, and most of those words came through the filter of experiences or events I was trying to understand or/and remember. But writing an actual book? I wasn’t brave enough to even pray about that . . .
I was having “a day” with one of the boys. The other one was at baseball tryouts at his school.
You never know when something unexpected will alter your perspective.
The call interrupted me as I spoke with a pharmacist. I didn’t recognize the number, so I ignored it. After my conversation with the pharmacist ended, I listened to the message the other caller had left.
And my stomach tightened.
“Mom, I got hit in the face with a baseball…teeth came down. Possible broken jaw.”
Confession time: I’ve always looked down on the disciple Thomas.
The doubter.
The unbeliever.
But after reading through John 20 recently, my regard for him has changed.
When the other disciples saw Jesus, talked with Him, ate with Him . . . Thomas was missing in action.
Then, when the other disciples declared they’d seen Jesus—alive—he poo-poohed them, declaring he’d only believe if he could put his fingers in Jesus’ nail wounds, in the slice in His side.
Have you ever read a passage in the bible—one you’ve read many times before—and God just speaks to you?
I don’t know how many times I’ve read about Saul’s and David’s lives. But this time? The Lord has shown me many things I never considered before. I noticed how differently Saul and David responded to fearful situations in our lives.
Maybe the stories of these two men spoke so deeply to my heart because I, too, have dealt with fear. I discovered some valuable, timeless lessons to take away from their examples.
Over the next few weeks, I’m sharing some insights God has given me. If you’ve missed past posts, you can find them here. I hope you’ll share your thoughts, struggles, and victories here so we can all encourage each other, and maybe even pray for each other.
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Please tell me I’m not the only one who begins to tremble when life spirals out of control. I suspect we’ve all walked through those seasons. Last fall and winter left me reeling as thing upon thing piled on my shoulders. Time demands. Emotion demands. Soul-sapping demands.
Everything felt out of control.
I couldn’t breathe deep. There were many unknowns . . . things going on with our boys and with my mom after her fall.
