anxiety, encouragement, grief, healing, lessons learned, moving on

The Mask of Busyness

Let’s talk about everyone’s favorite topic—masks! No, I’m not getting political or scientific, but just like we all have our reasons for wearing/not wearing cloth masks, we all have our reasons for wearing the invisible masks that hide our true selves.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been lonely lately. Sure, the whole virus thing hasn’t helped, but even before that, I was missing people. So, I thought I’d fill my evenings and weekends outside of work with busyness.

Surely if I went on enough hikes and attended enough game nights, I would find a bosom friend (think Anne of Green Gables and Diana). Surely if I attended enough Bible studies and volunteered enough, I would be more spiritual, and God would love me more, right? Surely if I ate out every other meal, I would forget that my own dining room table was set for one. 

Behind the mask of busyness lies a face of loneliness.

You guessed it. All of that busyness didn’t work. Going to all the game nights and other activities didn’t help to fill the gap left by a friend whom I no longer saw regularly. Surfing Facebook constantly didn’t fill in the gap for a lunch-time heart-to-heart talk with a close girlfriend.

Trying to be more spiritual didn’t make God love me more. He already loves me more than I can imagine. “’Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,’ says the Lord, who has compassion on you” (Isaiah 54:10 NIV).

Joining dating sites didn’t garner me a partner to share the ups and downs of daily life. It just emphasized the sting of rejection and loneliness—over and over again. 

Eating out all the time just made my waistline expand and my wallet shrink. And I’m still faced with the empty spot at the dining room table.

So, when I remove the mask of busyness, I’m left to face my loneliness head-on. What will I do with it? The ultimate answer to the mask of busyness is Isaiah 46:10, 

“Be still, and know that I am God.”

God is the answer for my loneliness. God is the answer for your loneliness, too. Here are five simple, practical steps to combat loneliness:

  1. Seek a closer connection with God. Being alone is the perfect time to schedule dates with the Lord to spend more time reading the Bible and praying. Look around for a Bible study to join—you’ll make some new friends in the process! Read the Psalms. David knew all about feeling alone.
  2. Write it out. Journal your thoughts to God. It is okay to feel lonely. Write about the hard stuff, but also write about the good stuff that He’s done for you in the past. Thank Him for His current provisions for you and for what He will do for you in the future.
  3. Make an effort! It’s so, so hard to reach out (so hard that I dislike that actual phrase—true story), but it is, oh, so worth it. Chances are that others around you are also wishing they had closer connections, but don’t know how to ask for them.
  4. Get involved in a ministry and/or volunteering with those less fortunate.
  5. Remember this season won’t last forever. 

God wants us to turn to Him instead of to activities to fill our emptiness. He promises to give us what we need. He is a … 

Father of the fatherless and protector of widows
     is God in his holy habitation.
God settles the solitary [lonely] in a home;
     he leads out the prisoners to prosperity (Psalm 68:5-6 ESV).

It’s time, don’t you think, to set aside our masks of busyness and seek God. He already knows us inside and out anyway (see Psalm 139). How do you mask your loneliness? Let me know, so I can pray for you!

Remember to subscribe to my email list for a great freebie on finding Jesus in the Storm!

anxiety, devotional, lessons learned, moving on

Communication–Anchor Series #3

Canva - Silhouette Image of Person PrayingMy grandparents planned a whole Junior Seamanship Course for us that summer—certificate and all. Part of the course was learning all of the sailing terminology and being able to respond appropriately to my grandfather’s commands whether we were in the middle of the ocean or sailing into our assigned slip at the marina. Communication was especially important when storms blew in. We had to know how to respond instantly without asking why or how. 

But during the calm times, that was when we could ask all the whys and hows we wanted. The questions and answers during the calm times brought us closer to our captain while the stories brought us closer to our grandparents. Both types of communication helped build trust, so we were prepared when the storms rose.

What does communication look like for the Christian? When everyone else deserts you, God is as close as your next prayer. When you’re lying alone on a hard, plastic chair in the emergency room in the middle of the night with your child who’s on a suicide watch, and all you can do is cry, “Oh, God,” he knows what you need. He can bring comfort and peace even then. 

When your church friends turn their backs on you because of false rumors spread by your soon-to-be-ex-husband (and church leaders—yes, for real), Jesus is right there beside you saying, “I know how it feels to be betrayed by those closest to me. Lean on my shoulder for a while.” It’s in those times that the comfort of memorized Scripture and wordless prayers are felt the most. But you can’t know that comfort if you don’t invest time in prayer and Bible reading before you get to that point. 

I know that God doesn’t always answer the way we want or when we want. But He is not on our timetable! And he always knows what’s best for us in the long run. Don’t be discouraged; keep praying.

Having trouble getting started? Me too. Here are a few ideas:

1.  Pray out loud when you walk around the neighborhood or in the park. I often pray as I walk around the pond on my breaks during the work day.

2. Write out your prayers. I find this especially useful because I can pour out my heart more easily than if I’m just trying to think about what I want to say. Writing my prayers often helps to clarify my thinking.

3. Just talk to Him like he’s sitting across the table from you at Panera Bread or on the couch next to you or riding in the front seat of the car on your way to work. Conversation with our Heavenly Father does not have to be complicated. He’s not hung up on any particular format.

4. When the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, he taught them The Lord’s Prayer. It’s short, sweet, and to the point (Matthew 6:9-13). We can mimic it.

5. Pray Scriptures. Use the psalms or one of Paul’s prayers and personalize it with your name and the names of your loved ones. 

One of the most precious letters (yes, real ink and paper) came from my mum when I was in college. She shared that she had been and would be using Colossians 1:9-12 to pray for me. I still have that letter folded and saved inside my Bible in that passage.

6. There are many other methods. Kim at Salvaged Living has a lovely post describing six different models—and she even includes a free printable to put in your Bible or prayer journal. 

Praying helps get your anchor ready to drop when needed, and it helps hold the boat steady after you drop the anchor—it is the anchor. If you’re not prayed up before a crisis hits, your anchor may as well be buried under all the flotsam in the bottom of the hold. But praying (and reading your Bible and being involved in community) brings your anchor up to the bow of the boat, makes sure it’s secured to the boat, and has it ready to throw overboard as soon as it’s needed. 

“For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you” (Colossians 1:9 NIV).

What’s your favorite way/place to pray? Let me know! And drop me a line to let me know how I can pray for you this coming week.

devotional, lessons learned, moving on, reinventing

Soul Anchor: Anchor Series Part 1

Life storms are inevitable although no one could have predicted anything like this recent worldwide pandemic, just like we have no way of knowing when life’s storms will hit us. 

But we need to be prepared for when our husband’s boss calls to say he had a stroke at age 52. We need to be prepared for when our child texts us to say she’s marrying her lesbian lover. We need to be prepared for city riots, foreclosed homes, and totaled cars. 

How? By anchoring our souls in Jesus as our hope!

We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us.

Hebrews 6:19-20

When you’re out on the ocean in a 26-foot sailboat, you’d be foolish not to have an anchor on board. You’d be even more foolish if you didn’t drop that anchor overboard when the clouds started swirling on the horizon. But you can’t just drop the anchor over the side of the boat and hope it holds you. You’ve got to make sure it’s secured to the bottom; otherwise, you’ll still be swept along with the angry tides.

A sailor must have excellent navigation experience, superior communication skills, and a competent crew in order to be prepared for all possibilities. 

As landlubber Christians, we need to be able to navigate our way through God’s instruction manual for life—the Bible, have open communication—prayer—with our heavenly Father, and make sure our crew—community—is in tip-top shape. 

Over the next few weeks, we’ll take a look at each of these three ideas and figure out why they’re so vital in our lives so that we can drop anchor in a safe harbor when the storms of life assail us. 

Please join us on this journey, so you can make sure your anchor is at the ready! Just sign up to make sure you receive each new post straight to your inbox.

anxiety, healing, lessons learned, moving on, reinventing

After the Storm: Part 4, Jesus in the Storm

The question now is, what will we do after the storm is over? Eventually, we will be unquarantined; eventually you’ll hold the divorce certificate in your hand; eventually you’ll find another job, another house, another church; eventually the drama in your children’s lives will settle down. But what lesson will you take away from these storms?

Through the more recent storms in my life, my prayer has been, “Lord, what lesson do you want me to learn? How can I glorify you through this hot mess?” 

My first takeaway has been to attempt to have a positive attitude throughout this whole quarantine business. I’ve had my moments; trust me! But overall, I think I may finally, after 49 years (!!), be learning how “in whatever situation I am to be content” (Philippians 4:11). What I’ve learned is that whining just makes it (whatever “it” is) worse. This morning, our pastor reminded us that we should not hear gratitude and complaints coming out of someone’s mouth at the same time (James 3:9-12). 

Everyone is eager to return to “normal” after being quarantined for the past three months or so. While I admit to wanting to ditch the mask and hug my friends in church, I often longed for the merry-go-round of life to stop just long enough for me to catch my breath. Well, the merry-go-round stopped. Sometimes we need to be careful what we wish for! 

Here’s the crux of the matter: Do we really want to return to the rat race of constant activity? Perhaps we’ll be more intentional about our choices for activities. For sure I’m going to be more intentional about how I spend my time! I’m also going to be more intentional about seeking out community.

My second takeaway is this: We need to check on our neighbors and friends whom we know live alone—even after we’re all allowed outside again. Chances are that if they were lonely during the quarantine, they’re still lonely now. Let’s make a plan and not just to keep them in our thoughts and prayers—keep them on our speed dial too! Make a plan to keep dropping off a plate of cookies every few weeks, just because.

Let’s be intentional about going to church and small groups even after the excitement of being allowed to meet again wears off. Don’t let church time get crowded out by sports games, beach trips, and sleeping in.

On the flip side, don’t sign up for every committee just because you feel like you have to. It’s still ok to say no and to realize that family time must be a priority. 

My daughter was in Italy having her dream semester abroad when her school canceled everything, so she had to come home and do her classes online. There is absolutely no online substitute for walking around Rome, Florence, and Sicily. Being locked in a small dorm room alone is no substitute for traveling to Spain and Portugal for spring break. I get that. I really do. And I still feel absolutely terrible about her missed opportunities. She cried. I cried. But, I have absolutely reveled in the unexpected blessing of having her here to help me move and to spend time with her. She graduates from college next year, so this is the last time I’ll have with her just to be together. And it’s so sweet. It’s an unexpected blessing in this difficult time. 

What unexpected blessings have you found during this weird pandemic time? Remember to keep looking for unexpected blessings even when life goes back to “normal”! That’s the third takeaway. 

My fourth and final takeaway comes from looking again at the story of Jesus and the disciples in the storm from Mark 4:35-41—after Jesus calmed the storm with just a few words, he looked at the disciples as if he were disgusted with them (that’s what my attitude would be anyway). 

Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?

Mark 4:40

They had already seen a bunch of miracles and heard some amazing parables. So why did they think that Jesus would not be able to save them in a storm? 

Yet how often do I think the same thing? When my bank account is a big, fat zero and my car breaks down at the post office, I forget that not once have I been without transportation when I needed it. When I scramble around looking for more classes to teach at the last minute to replace ones that got canceled, I forget that God has always provided a way for me to pay every single bill on time.

When my beloved daddy calls to say the doctor told him he has cancer—for the third time—I forget that Jehovah Rapha can do miracles. And if the miracle is that others will come to Christ through his death, well, Jesus will  be the only way to calm the storm within me. 

Yes, Jesus in the boat right there beside us, but he wants for us to experience his peace and his calmness. He wants us to know, truly know, who he really is and what kind of power he has.   

What are your takeaways from your most recent storm (being quarantined or something else)? How can I pray for you during your current storm?

about me, divorce, healing, moving on, writing

Why I Have to Write

Last week I shared why I’m afraid to write my story. It was enough to scare me off all over again! This week I want to share why, in spite of my fears, I feel compelled to write anyway.

God has put in my heart to share my story in order to help others who may be going through similar hard stuff. Hard stuff is hard stuff, that is true, yet some hard stuff is so unique that only those who have suffered through it can truly understand those with the same difficulties. Here’s a brief rundown of some of my hard stuff over the past seven and a half years. 

Within a period of a year or so, I endured a separation (that eventually resulted in divorce), a totaled car, bankruptcy and foreclosure through no fault of my own, a child who almost committed suicide, job loss, financial loss, custody suits, serious health issues with my parents, serious health issues for myself, loss of church and friends due to false rumors, loss of my home, and more. 

Just as I was getting back on my feet, the whole cycle started over again. I had remarried (after much prayer and thought), but that marriage, too, ended in divorce due to abuse. I had expensive car repairs and expensive health issues. Again, I lost a job and a church. A child did something that rocked my world. A parent called with another cancer diagnosis. Property and finances were stolen from me. This second cycle was a bit shorter, and I was better prepared, yet I cried out to God asking why I had to suffer through all of these hard things again

So why do I feel the need to share about some of these hard things? I need to shine the light of God’s truth onto the ugly places of marital abuse in the church. Divorce—even in 2020—is still heavily stigmatized in the church. Who are we to judge what others have been through when they most need love? I need to help parents of children living alternative lifestyles know they are not alone, and it’s not their fault. 

I need to share that even though my entire life crumbled around me—literally—more than once, I can remain standing because of God’s faithfulness. God has put in my heart to share my story to make stepping stones out of the pit back onto solid ground and to show others who are where I have been the path to freedom and wholeness. Spoiler alert: I’m not all the way there yet.  

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;     
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;    
great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
    “therefore I will hope in him.”

Lamentations 3:22-24 ESV

The other reason I need to share my story is that I was silenced for so many years and made to feel like I was less than and not important. I lost my sense of self. I lost my opinions. I was made to feel worthless. I lost my self-confidence. All of it. 

I need to write in order to feel heard and to regain myself! I have been silenced long enough!

Which of these topics can you identify with? Which of these topics would you like to see in print first? (Well, on the blog, not really in print.)

anxiety, healing, moving on, When a Woman Finds Her Voice, writing

Why I’m Afraid to Write My Story

I’ve been procrastinating, which is unlike me. I’ve decided that this is the year to tell my story, but I want to communicate it with redemption and hope. As I was trying to figure out why I felt so anxious whenever I thought of writing recently, I came up with this (probably partial) list of fears. Can you relate?

I’m afraid I’ll be minimalized—again. I’m afraid my parents will disapprove of what I choose to say. I’m afraid others (kids, friends, family, strangers) will disapprove of what I choose to say. I’m afraid I’ll be told my story doesn’t matter. I’m afraid to relive some of the really hard parts of my story. I’m afraid people will think I’m not a good writer. I’m afraid I won’t come up with the right words. I’m afraid I won’t be able to craft the story with redemption and hope. I’m afraid I’ll have to do marketing and all that stuff that makes my brain hurt and makes me feel inadequate. 

I’m afraid people will say what happened to me wasn’t that bad. I’m afraid to be vulnerable because I don’t want to get hurt again/more. I’m afraid to dream. I’m afraid to hope. I’m afraid to believe that I could actually write something helpful that people would want to read (never mind the fact that part of my day job title includes the word writer). I’m afraid I’ve only got one word for how I made it through some of the toughest spots: God. I’m afraid I don’t know how to incorporate all the elements properly. I’m afraid I’ll fail. I’m afraid it won’t be perfect.

There are nowhere near 365 “I’m afraid” statements there, yet God has provided 365 different verses in the Bible to address fear. A bunch of them are found in the book of Joshua as he was setting out to do a new thing. Over and over, God tells him, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9 ESV). Like Joshua, I feel as if I’m setting out to do a new thing (telling pieces of my story). Like Joshua, I feel as if I need daily strength and encouragement not to be afraid. 

David also knew all about being in situations where fear was a normal response, yet he reacted like this: 

“In God, whose word I praise,

in God I have put my trust;

I shall not be afraid.

What can mere man do to me?”

Psalm 56:4 (NASB)

Turns out, “mere men” can do quite a bit, but it’s not permanent. Their words are not as powerful as the words of the Almighty God who promises to “redeem the life of his servants; none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned” (Psalm 34:22 ESV).

In the end, that’s what I’ve got to cling to: God. He’s been there all along, and He’s certainly not going to fail me now. 

change, devotional, healing, lessons learned, moving on, reinventing

Out With the Old; In With the New

So, maybe I’m a few days late to the game, but I’m still working on my vision for 2020. How ‘bout you? Or maybe your goals have already fizzled, and you need a reminder to reboot them. Here’s your invitation to keep working toward your 2020 vision!

Some of my goals feel so big and so audacious that I’m taking my time to break them down into smaller, more manageable chunks. I’m believing God for “a new thing” in this new decade. (Yes, I’m aware that some of you think the new decade doesn’t start until 2021, but let’s set that debate aside for now.) At the end of this year, I’ll be reaching a milestone birthday with a new decade of life. So, it’s time. It’s time to shed the past decade of hurts and hard stuff. It’s time to do something with the lessons that God’s taught me through all of the yuckiness of recent life events. 

Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, … “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” — Isaiah 43:16–19

— Isaiah 43:16–19 (ESV)

If my God can make a dry path for the Isralites through the Red Sea, make water spring forth from a dry rock, raise a dead man to life, and create something out of nothing, then he can give me a new lease on life this year! I’m on the lookout for his path for me through the desert this coming year. 

But here’s the thing: we can’t go forward if we’re looking back. We can’t make a new relationship work if we’re always bringing up the old one. We can’t hold new things if our hands are still clenched around the old things—physically or metaphorically. Dump out the cold coffee and brew a fresh cup, sister!

Together, let’s let go of fear, unrealistic expectations, old hurts, and feelings of inadequacy and insecurity. Let’s reach out and hold onto  faith, confidence, joy, and the expectation that God will do something new in our lives in 2020. Who’s with me?

devotional, lessons learned, moving on

How to be Thankful in Tough Times

Canva - A Woman in a FieldI don’t know about you, but the last thing I want to do when I’m faced with a huge, unexpected car repair bill, a looming medical diagnosis, or an impossible family situation is to give thanks. But that’s what we’re supposed to do. 

“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thessalonians 5:19).

James instructs us to “count it all joy” as we encounter trials! Personally, I’ve always had a bone to pick with James about the word “joy.” But we are instructed to actually be joyful in times of trouble. I’m still working on it! That’s the way to become steadfast, which will lead to becoming “perfect and complete” (James 1:2–4).

The most vivid example is when Paul and Silas were in the Philippian jail. It can’t get much worse than being beaten and then thrown into a dank prison cell for witnessing for Christ. Yet Paul and Silas were singing and praising God in the middle of the night. THEN, and only then, did God cause an earthquake that set in motion the events of their freedom—and the salvation of the Philippian jailer and his family (Acts 16:16–34). Somehow, I don’t think they would have been saved if Paul and Silas had spent the night complaining and screaming invectives.  

Do I want to give praise and thanks to God when times are tough? No! Nothing in my natural self wants to do anything but have a pity party. But after my tissue box is empty and my journal is full of laments, the pity party is over. The first rung of the ladder out of the pit of despair is praise. There’s always something to be thankful for, even if it’s just a new box of tissues when you’re bawling your eyes out over bad news. 

I can praise God that though the battle may seem lost for now, the war is not over. I can praise God for past victories, however small or long ago they may be. I can praise God for another day to bring Him glory. I can thank God for friends and family who remain by my side no matter what. I can be thankful for a roof over my head and a job to pay the bills. 

Even when I didn’t have a job—or a roof, or a car—God provided for my every need. And for that, I can be thankful today as I’m facing new trials.   

“Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth!  For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations” (Psalm 100:1, 5).

So, how can you be thankful right now—in the midst of your trials?

grief, healing, lessons learned, moving on, reinventing

If I Don’t Say It . . .

If I don’t say it, it’s not true. If I don’t say it, it didn’t happen. If I don’t say it, I can sweep it under the carpet. Right? As much as my reticent Scottish ancestry would like to believe that, it’s not accurate. Feelings can only be suppressed for so long; events happen whether or not I verbalize them. 

This past two years (more like seven), so many things have happened that I don’t want to acknowledge. But I’ve learned that acknowledgment and acceptance don’t necessarily equal approval.

By accepting that certain things ARE, I free my heart to figure out how to live with their realities without losing my mind.

But how on earth do you accept losing your second chance at love, your health, your finances, your job, your church, and your dreams for your family? Prayer, prayer, and more prayer! Then . . .

You get up, dress up, and show up! You put one foot in front of the other. You cry. And you cry some more. 

Then you dry your tears and do the next thing. But the thing about crying is not allowing yourself to wallow indefinitely. So many bitter people wallow forever and never get through. They are stuck in the Fire Swamp of despair—like the quicksand in Princess Bride, but without hero Westly. 

Whatever you do, don’t keep it all bottled inside! From experience, I can tell you that doesn’t work. Forty-eight years is a long time to keep a stiff upper lip. When you keep it bottled up, it bubbles over—”out of the abundance of the heart, [her] mouth speaks” (Luke 6:45). And that’s just not a pretty sound.

Feelings have to be traveled through. There is no around. Going through does not mean getting stuck in them, though. It means processing those feelings, so you can heal. Healing comes from going through, not from stuffing. 

David struggled with this very issue when he was being pursued relentlessly by his enemies. He was honest with the Lord about his emotions, but he didn’t stay there. Many of the psalms document David’s struggle with accepting the hard stuff of life. One of my favorites is Psalm 79. David begins by telling God what others have done against him. Then he lets the Lord know what he’s feeling. “How long, O Lord? Will you be angry forever?” (v. 5). He is honest with God about his feelings; he doesn’t keep them bottled up inside. Rather, he gives them over to the Creator of feelings who knows best how to soothe them. He next asks for help: 

“Help us, O God of our salvation,
    for the glory of your name;
deliver us, and atone for our sins,
    for your name’s sake! (v. 9).

But the real sermon in this psalm is the last verse. David gives thanks to the Lord WHILE he’s in the middle of his mess. That’s what we need to do, too.

For me, writing is often the way through hard stuff and its accompanying emotions. What’s your way through the quagmire of messy life?

anxiety, change, grief, healing, lessons learned, moving on

Take It to the Cross

How many times do we hear—or say—that phrase and not know how to take our burdens to the cross and leave them there?

“Rising Cairn” by Celeste Roberge

I connected immediately with this sculpture, “Rising Cairn” by Celeste Roberge, the first time I saw its image. Others have called it “The Weight of Grief,” and that’s what I see. Grief, bitterness, struggles, loneliness, loss, all these things weigh us down. It’s not just all in the mind or in the heart; hard things take their toll physically too. 

All this weight that we carry can make daily living difficult. Imagine carrying a 30-pound backpack on your back all day, every day. Sounds exhausting, right? Well, that’s what we do when we don’t let Christ carry our spiritual and emotional burdens for us. 

I’ve tried to envision how free I would feel to be rid of all the weights I carry. I can picture Christian from Pilgrim’s Progress stumbling toward the cross. As he nears it and lifts his eyes to see the symbol of his Savior’s love, the weights fall right off his back. Can you imagine the freedom and lightness he felt? Can you imagine the freedom and lightness you and I would feel if we could only lay down our rock loads at the foot of the cross.

We can!! In order to help those of us (me) without an imagination, I’ve thought of doing this physically, but I haven’t yet. Gather up a bunch of rocks, use a sharpie to write a burden on each one—whatever’s weighing down me heart and mind and causing me to be bent over with grief. Take those rocks, those burdens to the cross and set them down on the ground beside it. I imagine Jesus bending over and picking up those rocks and in exchange giving me His yoke of peace, love, and grace. How much lighter I would feel! Those aren’t burdens at all; they’re blessings!

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 ESV

Once we’ve laid our burdens down at the foot of the cross, we can’t pick them up again. Not that I would want to, but we are creatures of habit. 

Recently when I was struggling with a particular issue with one of my children, I was keeping it all inside and not telling anyone about it—even my closest friends. I was so crushed by this burden—just like the person depicted in the “Rising Cairn” sculpture—that I couldn’t focus on anything else. I was filled with anxiety and grief. My dad finally encouraged me to let it go, to let others help me carry that burden to the Lord. It was hard to share what I felt like was my failing as a mother, but I did. It took several months of prayers, tears, and sharing with friends who carried me to Jesus, but I have let it go (mostly). When I dwell on this issue, I still cry. I pray constantly for this problem. But I don’t carry the burden of it around with me, and in that, I am free. 

You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free

John 8:32 ESV

I have other burdens that I’m working on releasing, but sometimes I feel like the rocks are superglued to my hand! Why do I hold onto my burdens instead of loosing the backpack straps and letting the whole bag fall to the ground at the cross as Christian did? I don’t know! But I’m working on it, and I’m inviting Jesus to help me release these burdens. 

What rocks are superglued to your hands? What burdens are in your backpack weighing you down? Take them to the cross and leave them there, friend! If you need someone to pray with you about your cares, let me know.