The past few weeks of summer our home has been a revolving door. And it’s been wonderful. In fact, I prayed for it. I believe God created us for community and making space for people to come together and love each other is one of my greatest joys. I just don’t need it.
When the world was closed in the global pandemic of COVID 19, as a mom, my heart felt fear. In the beginning it was fear for their safety. The biggest goal was not to get sick. As we learned more and the panic stopped, I feared isolation would get the best of them.
Our bodies are a gift from God. Masterfully created. It’s miraculous to even contemplate the way my hand is even able to type these words now. But do we need to take our bodies seriously as a Christian?
If you are reading this it is likely because you are a woman who loves her kids deeply AND has dreams beyond her home. I want to share three things that have led me from survival to success to significance. Many years ago I made the decision to do big things and make a difference.
A word loaded with emotion. A word heavy with fear, shame, mixed with desperation and doubt. A word hard to hear as a woman about her own physical health, but perhaps landing harder on the mom heart. This was the word I heard spoken over my oldest daughter last week at her annual physical health check.
Dear Jenny,
First things first, you will not be a household name like you hoped when you are five. Lucky for you, technology will advance and you will get to pick up your own virtual microphone. You can host your own talk show through a platform called Instagram stories.
I never thought much about having kids. And if I did on a game of MASH (google it) in the back row at church in junior high, it was definitely to have two. That’s right, a husband, a house, a career, two cars in the garage and two kids playing in the yard.
I bought myself a new car. It’s just a car. But it’s a really nice car. And I bought it myself. Cars aren’t really the kind of thing that get me excited in life. I’m not really a “car person.” Some of that is my upbringing, some of that is just me.
On April 28, 2019 I went away on a 24-hr prayer retreat. All by myself. No husband, no kid, no friend. Just me. I had never done anything like it. But I had also never been in a place like I was. It was nothing tragic. Just a losing battle.
Ever love something, even something you might be real good at, but want to give up? Quit? Not “feel” it anymore?
