Growing up I saw my mom invest in her friendships.  She was never too busy for a cup of coffee with a friend.  Sometimes they would laugh together, sometimes they would cry.  Sometimes they would walk, or ask me to leave the room.  (That was actually a little hard, because I have thought of myself as a grown up since I was 3…when I started drinking coffee with my mom and planning my wedding.)  I did not realize the value in seeing those friendships firsthand, until I really did grow up.

Below are a list of friend types everyone should be so lucky to have:

 5 a.m. friend – This is the friend you can text at 5 am, and hear back from within minutes.  You probably texted to complain about the perils of having to drive in the rain (rain because it is literally 1 degree above freezing) and therefore no 2-hour delay.

Commuter friend – The friend you talk to while driving to work.  You talk about work, husbands, children, and all of life.  The conversation never, ever ends (often you have to hangup mid-thought…she understands), just gets interrupted briefly for the things of life.

Long-distance friend – This is your longest running friendship.  You’re no longer near one another, but can pick up right where you left off – no awkward silences.

Hero friend – this is the person you call when you need inspiration.  She’s usually dusting while you talk, discussing how she sent her children to school eating homemade Belgium waffles and organic turkey bacon and ‘cage-free’ eggs.  Then, instead of feeling inspiration, you feel guilt and call friend #1.  She doesn’t dust.

Family friend – This is the friend that is in your family.  Thank God.  No, literally, THANK HIM.  You look forward to family functions because she will be there.  With her, you talk about everything from bacne to the omnipotence of God. (I am uniquely blessed in this category.)

Prayer warrior friend – This is the friend that can bring you to tears with just a “how are you doing”?  It’s not just a regular “how are you”, it’s a “how are you, really?  It’s said with such sincerity and concern, you know your answer is safe with her.  And boy will she pray….

Coffee friend – This is the friend who understands your need for coffee.  Talks happen after work over coffee, or after kids are in bed and we sneak over to each other’s house for a late night cup of decaf (I know…party animals…)

Friendships have never been more important to me in my life than right now, as a young mother.  When I was little, I prayed for a sister.  God answered my prayer by blessing me with more soul sisters than I could have asked for or imagined.  So glad His ways are not our ways.  I am richly blessed beyond measure, and so incredibly grateful for the gift of friendship.


“Nolan, as soon as you eat something and get some fluids in you, you’ll feel like a new man.”

“I don’t want to be a new man. I like me.”

Today I took Nolan to the doctor.  I thought he had appendicitis.  He was constipated.

Two years ago, I took him to the doctor because I thought he had leukemia. He was constipated.

I struggle with anxiety.

This summer I hiked with my family to the very top of the beautiful Chimney Rock, and had to get down immediately.  My whole family was up there, literally skipping about and leaning over the edge to get the best view.  All I could think of was the structure…how did we know that this whole mountain side wasn’t depending on one small rock, which could easily be dislodged by a disgruntled woodpecker?  How do we know?

I think bridges will collapse when I go over them.   I think all spiders are poisonous and out to get me.  When Josiah was 2 days old, Nolan sat on him and I thought he gave Josiah brain damage.  I’m fearful when Michael leaves for work, he won’t make it home.

I’ve never been bitten by a spider or on a bridge or a mountain that collapsed.  Josiah is fine, so are Nolan and Zachary.  Michael is home safe, yet again.

Mostly, my fear is unfounded.

But I am not guaranteed tomorrow.  Neither is anyone in my family.  I have seen death.  I have heard the cries of a mother grieving a child.  I know it happens…happens every day.  It could happen.  Could.

Transforming my mind to trust the One who holds the future has been hard for me.  I was so anxious when Nolan was born, my mother had to almost shake me out of it.  Had she been closer than 500 miles, I think she would have.  She finally challenged me after the 367th paranoid phone call.

“What if….mom?”

“What if, Christi Anna?  If the very worst thing happens, you will go through it.  It will be awful.  More than we can imagine or bear to think about.  But we will go through it.  But we cannot spend our energy thinking about what might happen. Why worry about tomorrow…

Man…God gave me the best when he passed out moms.  I play that tape over and over and over in my head.  Every time Michael is running 5 minutes behind and forgot his phone.   Every time a child runs a fever.  Every time I cannot see the future.  All the time. 

I’m better than I was.  I’ll get better with time.  With wisdom.  In the meantime…I’m learning to cast my cares upon Him.  And praying that He search me and know my heart….Try me and know my anxious thoughts.  And see if there  be any hurtful way in me,

And lead me in the everlasting way.


IMG_9173IMG_9176IMG_9174When I was about 14, I was visiting my Grandma in the foothills of North Carolina.  It’s hard to describe the beauty that is this homeplace.  There is rich history, creeks, woods, hills, valleys, crisp air and wildlife.  My dad would want me to let you know that on this property there is a lake, not a pond.  It is a lake because it is fed by a spring and is naturally occurring.  Near the stream there is an old springhouse.  Old as in hundreds of years.  Every time I walk the property with my dad, I learn something about nature.  He is a NatGeo junkie.  When I take my children there, he catches them a lizard, newt, snake, or even a baby raccoon.

If I could describe it all to you so you had a good visual, even show it to you on film, I would still not have given it it’s proper due, because there is an aroma on that property that is unique.  It is a mixture of honeysuckle, persimmon trees, and wild blueberry bushes, but there’s something more.

My grandma is gifted in gardening.  Her annuals are perennials.  They rise up every year on their own just to be tended to by her eager hands.  The flowers add to the aroma.

My grandma is gifted in cooking.  I’ve never been there when she has not just finished a pound cake, a pan of yeast rolls, or pan fried apples (because they are my favorite and she knew I was coming).  The food adds to the aroma.

There is a stream and a lake, surrounded by an unusually soft bed of bright green clover.  The water and clover add to the aroma.

It was here I learned to fish, to swim, and to really explore.  And it was here I learned about prayer.

One day, in the spring, the homeplace was in all its glory.  Flowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors filled the property.  Breakfast was fried apples, cantaloupe, sliced tomatoes, bacon, eggs, gravy and biscuits.  The aroma was sweet.  My Grandma and I were standing outside by a fencepost talking.  She was in shorts, a t-shirt, work gloves, tennis shoes, and sweating.  She was in her element.  My grandma is the hardest worker I know.

She looked at me with her bright, piercing blue eyes, and that day she told me that every morning on her mile-long walk she called out my name when she prayed.  She called us all by name, out loud. Every day.  Her children, grandchildren, friends and relatives.  She talked to Him about them daily.

This arrested the 14-year-old me.

My name is called out to the Holy God of the universe, that He would remember me???

In this moment, I began to understand the friendship nature of our living God.  Talking with Him, on a walk down the lane, can be as natural as talking to a friend over a cup of coffee.  Until this time I had never prayed out loud for so much as anything but a meal.  I had never thought of prayer that way.  A conversation.  A talk.  A major paradigm shift.  And I also felt really really loved.

Over the next several years, I strayed somewhat.  I sinned, knowingly at times, and had to be forgiven.  When I ultimately surrendered everything to Christ in my early 20s, I did it out loud.  I talked to God, like a dear friend.  I told Him that I couldn’t do it on my own anymore, and I wouldn’t keep anything for me anymore.  I gave it all to Him, out loud.  “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord”…

That conversation with my Grandma is tucked into my memory and is as sweet to me as a fresh blueberry from those wild bushes that volunteer their fruit for all to enjoy.  She doesn’t know the impression that conversation had on my prayer life, on my life.  She doesn’t know that I think about it each time I come down that lane, and smell that aroma.  She doesn’t know that her humility and selflessness changed me.  

Pray for your children.  Tell them you do.  God answers prayer.

Recently we celebrated her 85th birthday.  Her eyes are just as blue and probably more piercing than they were that day by the fencepost, nearly 20 years ago.  She doesn’t get to walk a mile everyday anymore.  She doesn’t get to garden like she wishes she could.  She still cooks.  And she prays.   She told me she does.  At the party in her honor, she made sure to let me know I am prayed for, and dearly loved.

And she still calls out my name, that I may call out His who is worthy of Praise.

I love the Lord, for he heard my voice;
    he heard my cry for mercy.
Because he turned his ear to me,
    I will call on him as long as I live.

The cords of death entangled me,
    the anguish of the grave came over me;
    I was overcome by distress and sorrow.
Then I called on the name of the Lord:
    “Lord, save me!”

The Lord is gracious and righteous;
    our God is full of compassion.
The Lord protects the unwary;
    when I was brought low, he saved me.

Return to your rest, my soul,
    for the Lord has been good to you.

For you, Lord, have delivered me from death,
    my eyes from tears,
    my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the Lord
    in the land of the living.

10 I trusted in the Lord when I said,
    “I am greatly afflicted”;
11 in my alarm I said,
    “Everyone is a liar.”

12 What shall I return to the Lord
    for all his goodness to me?

13 I will lift up the cup of salvation
    and call on the name of the Lord.
14 I will fulfill my vows to the Lord
    in the presence of all his people.

15 Precious in the sight of the Lord
    is the death of his faithful servants.
16 Truly I am your servant, Lord;
    I serve you just as my mother did;
    you have freed me from my chains.

17 I will sacrifice a thank offering to you
    and call on the name of the Lord.
18 I will fulfill my vows to the Lord
    in the presence of all his people,
19 in the courts of the house of the Lord—
    in your midst, Jerusalem.

Praise the Lord.

Psalm 116


My husband says I have 2 speeds, 0 miles per hour and 100 miles per hour. He says if I would find a good 55mph cruising speed it would be so much better for me. I smile and thank my sweet tortoise and go on about being a hare. It’s just not me.

My personality on the DISC personality profile is an I-C. That means I like people and can deal with change. I like variety in my work environment. I’m a good listener and prefer short rather than long term objectives. Details and routines are lost on me, for the most part. I tend to be reactive, rather than proactive (my roots are at least 4 inches long…appointment tomorrow). I’m creative when it’s crunch time, and I procrastinate. I can make a menu, but not cook from it. I can make a routine, but not abide by it. I can get organized, but cannot stay organized.

I’ve read “The 7 Habits of Highly neurotic Effective People”. It’s a good book. I use those principles daily. I strive to do the important, not just the urgent. I make a list. Every time I go to the store, I make a list. Every time I get in the store, I realize it’s in the car. I don’t go back for it because I have children. Once you’re in the store with children, there’s no going back.

If there were ever a more opposite personality to me, it would be my husband. He remembers everything. He doesn’t bite off more than he can chew. He follows a routine. He doesn’t over eat, spend impulsively, or care what people think about him. He’s quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry.

In recent years I have asked him for advice. Allowing him to advise me has helped me to not bite off more than I can chew. He helps me to slow down and put on a safety harness, so I don’t crash going 100mph. (I feel like a “Jesus takes the wheel analogy would fit here, but I’ll spare you.) Michael helps me say ‘no’. He helps me examine our priorities and choose to do what is important. I trust him. And he even helps me with details when I let them fall through the cracks. He helps me achieve the balance I struggle to maintain.

Currently, at my house, it’s crunch time. I am working on directing a children’s musical, teaching 4 college level courses, helping with our church sport’s league, and planning an Easter event (urgent, important). I am reading novels to my boys and dating my husband and serving my Savior (non-urgent, important). I keep up with my friends and invest in my relationships (non-urgent, important). Additionally, I have meetings, mail, laundry, carpooling, laundry, eating, cooking, laundry, show-n-tell, folder signing (parents of gradeschoolers know why this is a category in my day), and laundry to manage (urgent, non-important). I also watch TV :/ (non-urgent, non-important). I tried to put laundry in the non-urgent/non-important quadrant, but it doesn’t work. Does NOT.

It’s go time. It’s 100 mph time. There are urgent and important responsibilities every day. I will go on like this for 8 or so weeks, using all my creative energy and drive, then I will stop. I will take a short sabbatical from the urgent/important in 0mph zone and get recharged. Then, after I REST, I will go again.

This is probably not the most efficient way to live, I realize. But it is how I am most creative. It does match my personality. And because I have put on my safety harness, and am surrounded by support, I can take it. It took a while for me to accept the safety harness, but I’m better for it. I’m a better Christ-follower, wife, mother, teacher and friend. I’m better.

Balance for me is knowing how to put on the harness. And knowing that the 0 mph zone is coming around the bend.

10 Parenting Tips I Didn’t Read in a Book

  1. When there is a holiday, Michael and I let our kids eat all of the candy they want on that day.  Then, that night, I sort the candy.  The chocolate goes in my closet (for obvious reasons), the rest goes in the trash.  They’ve never thrown up.  So far, so good.
  2. If our kids leave Legos in the floor, they get sucked up the vacuum cleaner.  Legos hurt.  I don’t take chances.  This works much like Pavlov’s dogs.  Vacuum cleaner turns on = kids start cleaning.
  3. Toy Story 3 makes it emotionally unbearable to get rid of toys.  Don’t watch it. Ever.
  4. In the summer we occasionally bathe the children with a water hose in our front yard.  That’s not so much a tip as a warning – better to call before you drop by.
  5. It’s never ok to make your children feel shame.  It is ok to let them feel guilt.    Shame is associated with who they are.  Guilt is associated with what they do.
  6. 5-year olds can unload the dishwasher all by themselves.  Let them.
  7. After you reach age 30 and/or have 3 children, your body doesn’t work properly.  Activities that involve spinning in circles, rolling in any fashion, or jumping up and down should be avoided at all costs.
  8. ‘Sticker chart reward systems’ are a fancy phrase for bribery.  And they work.
  9. If your child has been sitting in time out, and you forget that you put them there and why, it’s best to start the conversation with:
  • “Do you know why you’re in time out?
  • “yes”
  • “Ok, tell me why”
  • “I hit my brother”
  • “yes, that’s right (your memory returns here), and we don’t hit our brothers do we?”  See tip #5.

10. Car DVD players have singlehandedly made family road trips possible to endure without medication.


Every single time I got pregnant, it was on accident.  I mean, I know what it takes to get pregnant.  I guess we were just never really trying, especially the 3rd time.  Sitting at the doctor for a regular checkup and in she walks, eyebrows raised, and says, “Guess what?”

Has your doctor ever said “Guess what?” to you?  Really, the only time one should hear those words is if they are followed by the phrase “you’ve just won a million dollars!” She did not finish with that.

Guess what?


You’re pregnant.

No I’m not.

Yes you are.



Oh.  Oh.  Oh….wow.  Hmmm…..ok.

At this point she had brought the nurse in to help her.  They looked afraid for me.  They had met my other children.  Josiah never left my hip until the night I went into labor with Zachary.  And Nolan, well, Nolan was constantly escaping from me or yelling about something (using all biologically correct pronunciations for his anatomical features – I was so adamant they learn the correct word!) in public.  He colored on the doctor’s office walls with permanent marker he found in my pocketbook.  He squeezed out hand santizer on the floor.  He asked the doctor what everything was…and why one of the doctors looked like a brownie and the other like a cookie…yes, that happened.

It’s hard to explain how I felt that day.  I think it was a mixture of exhaustion and fertility guilt.  Fertility guilt is a thing.  This is when you and your husband share a bar of soap and have a baby 9 months later, while your dearest friends around you are struggling, sometimes for years, to conceive and/or carry a baby to term.  It’s not treatable, but it is a thing.  It is definitely politically incorrect to talk about this in any setting….probably even a blog.  It’s hard to tell those friends about your pregnancy.  You don’t want to sound like you are boastful, but you can’t very well say “I’m pregnant, but I didn’t mean to soooooo sorry….”

The exhaustion is the other thing I remember.  My mom’s first words to me when she found out were, “Oh noooo.   You’re so tired”.  She didn’t squeal.  My mom always squeals when she finds out someone is pregnant.  She squealed the first 2 times she found out I was pregnant.  Not this time…she knew.  I was tired.  It is exhausting being a mother.  For 2 months of that pregnancy I couldn’t open my eyes all the way.  I can’t describe how heavy my eyelids felt.  I don’t think I really slept for 5 solid years.  Now, that will take it out of you.

About 5 months into the pregnancy, Michael and I took an overnight trip to the mountains.  This was the first time I had been away from both the boys, and we really needed the time together.  We were there to pray and seek guidance and direction for our future.  While there, I became ill.  I had a terrible cold and was stuck in a (very comfortable) bed.  I did nothing but blow my nose the entire 1.5 days.

But I rested.

My dad once explained Psalm 23 to me like this.  He said “God makes us to lie down in green pastures”.   Occasionally, God puts a halt on things, and makes you rest.  His message was both a comfort and a challenge for me.  My dad knew I needed that rest.  My mom knew I needed that rest.  Michael knew it.  God knew it.  God made me rest.  Now that I know how to stop and find it in Him, I sleep well.  I am rested.  The Lord is my Shepherd, I lack nothing.  Just as His grace is infinite, His love boundless, and His mercy limitless, the rest He offers is perfect and yours for the taking.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”  You need simply to come.  That is your part.  Go to Him.  Rest.

Good night.

P.S. I feel compelled immediately to say that I love all my children with all my heart.   I’m infinitely glad I have each one, for infinitely different reasons.  They bless and challenge me every day.  God knew we needed Zachary to complete our clan.  He’s the one who reminds us daily to pray and give thanks before dinner, and tells me I’m pretty and beautiful every single time I kiss him goodnight.   I once heard on the radio that chocolate chip cookies were invented by accident; I find comfort in that.

So there you have it, my 3 boys and chocolate chip cookies, unplanned by man, but created and ordained by God (although I can’t back up the cookie invention with scripture – well, yes I can – “every good and perfect gift is from above”. James 1:17) and all of which make the world a little better.


I found out how strong my grandparents’ marriage was a few months before my grandmother passed away.  It was my wedding day.  We were all staying together at a church conference center; my entire family had driven from North Carolina to Indiana to help me celebrate.  My 84-year old granddaddy was the pastor conducting the ceremony.

I was in my room getting ready and I heard my grandparents talking in their adjacent room.  My grandmother was going over the ceremony with my granddaddy, who had retired from full-time pastoring a few years prior.  He, unbeknownst to me, had been struggling with early signs of dementia.  Unbeknownst to me, because my grandmother took such care of him.

“No, you have to emphasize this, not for, for this reason shall a man…”

and so on she went through the entire ceremony, again.  She wanted it to be just right (because she really loved me), and she wanted it to be just right for his sake as well.  She really loved him.

Just a few months later, she was ill.  I found out more about their marriage then.  They were so tired.  Grandmother had been struggling with restless legs, and Granddaddy had been up in the night with her, every night walking up and down the hall.  Up and down, up and down, up and down for hours.  Until she could rest.  He really loved her.

When she was very very near her home going we were all there.  Of course we were all there.  We are a pack, a clan, a seriously enmeshed glob of a family who really really adore one another.  We had been keeping vigil all day and all night.  We had left her room so she could rest, and were in the living room talking and feeling sad.  We were using baby monitors to listen when we had to be in another room.  Through the baby monitor we heard him praying over her.  She was unaware of anything around her.  He prayed out loud for her anyway, as I suppose he had probably done the entire 56 years of their marriage.  They really loved each other.

These were precious, precious moments I will always treasure.

But in considering their marriage I think it was probably hard, very hard at times.  I remember that they bickered.  Honestly, they had…spats.  Looking back I can see that my grandmother was probably a little stern and my granddaddy was probably a little needy.  He was in full-time ministry for 65 years.  Being a pastor is hard.  He didn’t miss Sundays.  They always came to the beach on Sunday evening instead of Saturday, so as not to miss church.  She waited for him and they came together.  She could have come with us a day earlier.  She didn’t have to wait, she just did.  He sometimes left for a funeral.  She never complained.  That must have been hard.

He was an early bird.  She was a night owl.  He was punctual, she was not.  He did not come from a Christian home, she did.  He was a talker, she was a writer.  He was in the forefront, she in the background.  When she worked in a doctor’s office, he cooked dinner and ran errands.  When she made a list, he completed it.  When he wrote a sermon, she typed it.  She was a planner, he was a doer.

She raised 2 small children while he traveled as an evangelist in the early years of their parenting.  That had to be hard.  There were no cell phones…my husband has always answered every hysterical phone call I have ever made.

“I don’t know babe, I think it’s probably very unlikely that hiccups can cause brain damage.”

“You’re right, I’ll call mom.”  (If my mom didn’t live right next door to me there is no way I would continue to be a whole entire person.  I would have fallen completely apart when my 3rd boy was born.)

She couldn’t call him on a whim.  She had to be patient.  Granddaddy told me how he came to realize how hard his traveling must have been for her, so he stopped traveling as much and stayed home more.  He also told me how he thought she was an angel.  He said that a lot.

I’ll never forget the look on my grandmother’s face on their 50th wedding anniversary.  The morning of which she came literally strutting down the hall dangling the golden necklace he had given her.  From it hung a modest solitaire diamond.  She was so proud, but not in a prideful way.  I think she just felt treasured.

The greatest gift I received on my wedding day was not wrapped in pretty white paper.  It was a conversation not meant to be heard through a paper thin wall.  It was a conversation that exuded an entire marriage of mutual sacrifice, mutual submission, and mutual love.  The gift was a shining example of what marriage is meant to be.  I am so blessed to have received it.

Marriage is hard.  Stay married anyway.  In the end you will need her to keep your wits about you.  You will need him to walk with you up and down the hall.  And when one of you prays the other into the arms of your Heavenly Father, the difficult road will have been worth it.  And I’m pretty sure the difficulty will fade in comparison to the gift you leave to the generations that come behind you.

Happy Valentine’s Day

For lunch today…

For lunch today Nolan wanted PB&J, I told him that we’re out of peanut butter. He said, how about meat and cheese. I told him we’re out of cheese. He said, “okay, how about meat and jelly?”

Flexibility.  Not my strongest attribute.  My kids get it somewhere, though, right?  They really are able to roll with whatever we throw their way.  Hey guys, we’re headed to Indiana.  “I’ll start packing” is their swift reply.  Guys, we’re out of milk… again, how about toast…wait, no bread….oatmeal??  “sure – with apples please!”  Really?

If I don’t have half and half for my coffee, it is literally like the end times for me.  I cannot function if my coffee isn’t just right.  My sigh is sooooo deep and loud, Michael calls it my ‘huffer’.  I pout until I can walk across the driveway to get cream from the mass general store (my mother’s house) and come back, settle in and nurse my coffee until I’m in a better mood.  I annoy the daylights out of myself.  My kids get it, why can’t I?   

I don’t think I’ll change my coffee preferences anytime soon, but I could possibly apply the lesson on flexibility to other areas of my life.  Like, perhaps, my vacation itinerary or well…, that’s the only thing I think I can give on for the moment….still working on it.  

“I’m enjoying a…

“I’m enjoying a clean and tidy house while my 3 boys nap…and when they wake up they will be sure to destroy everything that is clean. Today, instead of getting frustrated with the footprints, I’m going to treasure the tromping…and just enjoy my boys. ♥”

For the past 5 and a half years, I have had the distinct honor of mothering my precious son, Nolan.  I have monopolized his time, dictated his schedule, and orchestrated each and every social interaction of which he has been a part.  Tomorrow all of that changes as we begin a new era in our lives.  I couldn’t help to let my mind drift back tonight as I tucked him into bed (teddy bear still clutched tightly in his arms)…


His early days were spent being rocked (for hours) and nursed (on demand), sung and read to, and being toted to and fro…wherever I needed to go.  We cuddled and nestled and I distinctly remember trying to treasure those moments, as I could sense them fleeing right before my very eyes.  


Once he began to toddle around, his personality emerged as a strong and curious leader, spontaneous and social…with a laugh that was simply infectious.  Those days seemed to last a little longer, but the moments I continued to treasure.  With each new discovery or word or milestone, we cheered him on.  Always ready for the next big challenge, be it potty training or pronouncing the letter “K”, which seemed to take forever!


I suppose in a sense I have prepared for tomorrow for the past 5 and a half years.  I knew this day would come.


 Tomorrow.  Tomorrow, I give up extra long after breakfast snuggles (we’ll have to figure out a different time).  No more Tuesday morning playdates, Wednesday picnic lunches at the park that just last until whenever, or going to the zoo just because.  Tomorrow we will slip into a routine.  A schedule.  There’ll be checklists and homework and permission slips and things that are really important to keep track of (even more important than an oddly shaped stick or rock that have been discovered in the driveway).  


Tomorrow I will let my little heart walk about in the world.  He’ll be influenced and instructed, challenged and changed.  He’ll grow and adapt and make good friends and have conversations (and I may not be privy to every word).  He’ll probably discover that his new sneakers are Nikes, not Sketchers (as he believes they are now), and that the hand held device that his friends have is a DSi, not a BSi.  He’ll probably discover that sometimes kids are unkind, and he may get scared.  


I wonder if Jesus thought similar (although more sophisticated) thoughts about his disciples when he sent them out into the world.  I wonder if he reminisced about the first few years they spent together and hoped that His words would be the ones that would ring loudest in their ears.  I wonder…


His most formidable and influential years are already gone, just like that.  Tomorrow, I pray he will walk in the Truth when faced with adversity.  I pray he will stand for what is right, and resist what is wrong.  I pray he will allow the God of the universe to direct his path and ease his mind and calm any fear.  I pray will be the salt and light of the earth.  I pray he will be confident yet approachable, curious yet calm, motivated yet patient.  I pray he will grow in the fullness of who God created him to be, and that he seeks that above ALL else. Tomorrow.


Yes tomorrow is going to be a great day, because I’m shedding all my tears tonight!