As a mom, I sometimes feel like I should be an excellent question answerer. I like to have the answers, and I like to talk, so one would think that I'd be good at taking on the quandaries of my kids. But sometimes I don't know the answers and I'm well aware that I can't protect my kids from the world or ensure their understanding. I can rely on God's faithfulness in knowing the heads and hearts of my children and sending the Holy Spirit to direct the words that come from my mouth to their ears.
Death is terrible and sad on its own. Death rips and tears at hearts and it breaks people. It shatters worlds and families. When someone you love dies, it is never the right time, even in the case of people who've lived many years, because death is not ok. It's not the way God originally intended it. So why do we also kill each other? How can people be so cruel? How can our God, who is both completely sovereign and also completely powerful, allow evil that He hates?
"Are we there yet?" I ask. "Wait, child." Says my Father. Through every season of waiting, God asks me to fix my eyes on Him and trust that through Him I will have the strength to be content.
When anxiety threatens to overcome me and grief is more than I can bear, my rescuer has provided yet another way to cast my cares on Him.
Life is hard. This world is full of sin and sickness, terrible pain and death. So how can I claim that "it's a good thing"? The beauty is in the battle and strength comes through the struggle. God is over all of it and it's a good thing.
Out of nowhere, my son called to me and said, “Look, Mama! A butterfly!” He found my hand and jumped up into my lap. His little body held me down in the chair and pulled my head back into reality. I stopped to watch the butterfly with him.
My littles teach me a lot about faith. When we ask God for healing, it's easy to assume that everything will be all better immediately but difficult to trust His timing and process.
Eric loved to dance and he took every opportunity to sway with me to the music. Sometimes it was pretty and sweet like a waltz, peaceful and pleasant to behold. Other times (a lot of times) it was more like a passionate tango as both of us fought to take the lead, and often made others uncomfortable. We glided over smooth surfaces in lovely outfits but also tripped on tiny toys with spit-up everywhere. We zig-zagged and jumped to music videos with our littles. Here are a couple of my favorite dancing memories.
God is still faithful - Christmas 2016 When 2016 began, my husband of 3.5 years and I were thriving in Beloit, Wisconsin. Eric was the Youth Pastor at Rock Valley Chapel, and I was privileged to stay at home with our young boys, Bingham and William. In January, Eric and I attended a couple’s retreat together, set…
The Birth Story of William Cary Lindberg In October of 2014, my husband and I gave our son, Bingham, a framed ultrasound photo with a ribbon and a label that read “sibling.” The excitement in the room was wonderful as grandparents, great grandparents and Auntie Abby cheered, beamed and rejoiced that there would be a…