Category Archives: prayer

The Altars We Didn’t Know We Made (or Needed)

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Remember me
Though I have to say goodbye
Remember me
Don’t let it make you cry
For even if I’m far away I hold you in my heart
I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart

Remember me
Though I have to travel far
Remember me
Each time you hear a sad guitar
Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be
Until you’re in my arms again
Remember me

REMEMBER ME (LULLABY)

Let’s be honest—thanks to popular culture, there is curiosity around El Día de Los Muertos, or Day of the Dead. This Mexican holiday is celebrated on November 1 and 2 to honor and remember deceased loved ones. It is a joy-filled remembrance of life that involves building altars (ofrendas) with offerings, visiting and/or decorating graves, and sharing memories with family. The holiday blends ancient Mesoamerican and Spanish traditions into a celebration that welcomes the spirits of the dead for a brief reunion.

In recent years, this observance has taken on new meaning for me as more loved ones have passed from this life. It may sound selfish, but the idea of dedicating time to remember the most important people in our lives feels far more significant than some of the material-centered holidays we often celebrate. And while Día de los Muertos can be a grand, communal celebration, it can also be quietly observed in solitude.

Lately on social media, many creators have shared their stories, videos, and photos of their ofrendas. Some are elaborate and ornate, while others are simple and serene. Both are equally meaningful. At the same time, I’ve noticed conversations about who is “allowed” to participate, with some insisting on cultural credentials to take part in this day of remembrance. Yet, the overwhelming sentiment remains: we’ve all experienced loss, and the desire to honor those who shaped us is something universal.

A few days ago, I began putting out my Halloween decorations. As a 50-year-old empty nester, I don’t need to do this—and some might argue I shouldn’t—but Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I have such fond memories of it from childhood and of celebrating it with my own kids. What started as a plan to display a few old photos of my kids in their costumes quickly turned into a full-blown decorating session. On the built-in shelves, I decorated every corner, including two spaces where I already have photos of my mom and mother-in-law, and my sweet dog, Madeline.

These memorials stay out year-round. In realizing that, I saw that I had already created my own version of an ofrenda—a quieter one, perhaps, but deeply meaningful. It’s something I see every day. A space that holds memories 24/7. A space I could never imagine packing away. Every time I look at it, I thank God for blessing me with such beautiful souls in my life, even if only for a season.

In the Bible, altars were sacred spaces for worship, sacrifice, and offering—first built by Noah, Abraham, and others. They were places of remembrance, of unity, of meeting with God. Thinking about that reminds me of one of my favorite passages, Joshua 4:6–7, where God tells His people to stack stones by the Jordan River as a lasting reminder of what He did for them:

“In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them…”

Both the altar and the memorial stones tell the same story: that remembering matters. That marking what—and who—has shaped us is a sacred act.

I’m not going to tell you to build an altar in your home or decorate an ofrenda. But I will encourage you to make space for remembrance—a moment, a corner, a conversation, or even a prayer—to honor those who came before you and hold space in your heart. Whether through tradition, faith, or personal reflection, remembrance roots us in gratitude.

After all, memory itself is sacred.

Now, tell their stories.

None of Us are Good at Tragedy

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All of the wrong things will be said.

And we will never hear enough of the right things.

The sadness, shock, and the fact that most of us are ill-equipped to deal with the bad stuff, the sad stuff, the unexpected, and especially grief means that we will likely screw things up. And we will screw it up more than once. I’ll say it again, none of us are good at tragedy.

As news of the D.C. crash broke, our sadness and disbelief quickly moved into blame, conspiracy theories, and political division.

If you’ve ever found yourself in a situation where you needed to offer grace, empathy, sympathy, aid, or any kind of support, you know that these things are not easy to do. Most of us spend our lifetime trying to avoid the bad stuff. It makes sense. None of this comes naturally. We are all flawed humans. No one wants to be in a situation like this. And yet, the reality is that we will experience tragedy and experience it more than once.

In these vulnerable times, we feel the need to clap back, answer back, and make sure that we’re heard…and maybe we shouldn’t. As we try to “do something,” soothe our own anxiety and find reason and explanation for the unexplainable, our sadness manifests itself as anger. Rather than crying, we lash out or worse—we post a zillion things on social media. According to therapists, everyone wants to be helped, heard, or hugged in times of stress or crisis. So often, in our attempts to satisfy these needs ourselves, we take the easiest route and cast blame while screaming at the top of our lungs, “This isn’t fair! It’s not right!” And it isn’t. The hardest part of tragedy and grief exists in the silence. Seeking to be helped, heard, or hugged may meet a need in the moment, but true healing is a long and slow process.

We can’t win here. People want answers, demand answers, and in the haste to give the people answers, we can say some pretty nasty things. We say unhinged things. We say dismissive things. We even make up things. We’ve been conditioned or maybe entitled to feel like we need to know and we need to know right now. Oftentimes we turn to authority figures, experts, and the news media for answers forgetting that they, too, are flawed humans who are also not good at tragedy. We love to make our politicians, law enforcement, religious leaders, and anyone who we don’t like or agree with into the enemy when we should be coming together in love, empathy, and understanding. While we can’t do much in these times of tragedy, we can honor others by offering prayers and extending peace.

You already know this, but these things are cyclical. We have quickly moved from disbelief and sadness to blame and now we’re learning the stories of the lives of the precious souls on Flight 5342 and in the helicopter that night. We mourn the loss while seeking answers and then we will wait. The news cycle, the political discourse, and life move on.

I am not good at tragedy. My heart has been broken enough times to know that this is part of life and no one escapes it. I take seriously the call to do no harm and offer my deepest condolences to the families and friends of those lost.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18

A (Figurative) Kneeler in Every Home (A Call to Act Rather than Complain)

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As a kid, I spent a lot of time at my grandmother’s house. I credit her with teaching me so many things (some of the biggest parts of my personality I can directly attribute to her), but the most important thing she taught me was how to pray. Through her, I learned that I was created on purpose and for a purpose. She took me to church and reminded me that God loved me unconditionally. She showed me that nothing was beyond forgiveness. In my opinion, she was the greatest example of a Christian woman I have ever known.

In her home, she had a kneeler. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a home with its own kneeler (before or since). It was a beautiful piece, made of wood with a lovely stain and it had a velvety cushion for your knees. (There’s a chance that my Papa made it, but I’m not 100% sure.) If you’ve never seen a kneeler I asked AI to generate what I can remember and the above rendition is pretty close. I was absolutely enamored with it! It was like having a church in your own house! The kneeler was designed to fit an adult, so as a small child, I couldn’t kneel and rest my hands on the top to pray. I knew you weren’t supposed to stand on the cushion, so what was a kid to do?

My grandma told me that you didn’t need a kneeler to pray. You could pray anywhere and at any time. While I knew that someday I would be able to reach the top of the kneeler, that little piece of assurance stuck with me. As a kid, I was plagued with nightmares. Praying helped. I’ve been a news junkie since I was in grade school and knowing about a big scary world caused me to worry and fear. Praying helped. Moving away from home and my support network was hard. Praying helped. Notice that I said that praying helped. It didn’t magically solve everything, but what it did do was deepen my faith and relationship with God. A God who pursues each of us, who hears and understands our worries and concerns, and reminds us that we are not alone even on the most friightening days.

It’s disheartening to know that so many disregard the power of prayer. It’s become a mode of attack in our modern culture to mock those who extend thoughts and prayers in times of crisis or as a way of offering comfort. Understand that praying people know that they are not lifting up their worries to a genie in the sky who will magically fix the ills of the world. Those of us who pray know that God is so much larger than that interpretation. The power of prayer is in the communication with our Creator. This is not lip service. Fervent prayer is action. It is often through prayer that we are called to act AND do more as we respond to the needs of others.

In the uncertainty of this new year, I have seen so many seek to complain and rile up their circles and communities. Many are calling out others, dividing families and friend groups, asking each other to take sides, and demonizing those who have differing thoughts and opinions. Several are canceling those who they once considered close and blocking people who they once called family or friends. This does so much more harm than good and it’s not taking place among those who don’t believe, this is happening within our own churches and communities of faith.

This is now a time for real in-depth conversations, in-person relationships, and profound listening. These things don’t take place in news stories, political chatrooms, or on social media. They take place around the table, in homes, and with open minds and hearts.

Please do not contribute to the hate, division, and fear that currently surrounds us. Pray and ask for discernment. Ask God to use you. Think before you speak (or post) so that you can be a source of hope and peace. Prayer is action. In this distressed world, many only contribute to the anxiety by spreading information that has not been fully researched or confirmed. News and information move at lightning speed and it is easy to get caught up in this vicious whirlwind.

At this point, I am again reminded of my grandma and her assurance that we can pray anywhere and at any time. I am more certain than ever that we need a (figurative) kneeler in every home to pray and hear God’s call and we need real-life, in-person conversations to listen and respond with compassion in order to truly make a difference, even if it’s only in our own tiny corner of the world.

This is not lip service. Fervent prayer is action.

In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears. Psalm 18:6

2020 Hindsight (Words to Live By)

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Definition of twenty-twenty hindsight

: the full knowledge and complete understanding that one has about an event only after it has happened

I am not a resolution person, but I do believe in goal setting. And more than that, I believe that knowledge is power. I’ve come out of 2020, like many of you—wounded, weary and (hopefully) wiser. In the midst of all of the uncertainty of the past year, I’ve collected these tidbits…lessons learned in a year that no one could have anticipated.

Chase your stars fool, life is short. —Atticus Time is finite. Everything has an expiration date. I’m not a YOLO person, in fact, I actually hate that phrase because it connotes a sense of recklessness. Living life fully and chasing your dreams does require risk, but I don’t believe it has to be reckless. 2020 has taught me to live more fully in the present. Don’t just pause, but stop. Look people in the eye, listen more, (respectfully) speak your mind and remind yourself that you’re stronger than you think.

Everything you go through grows you. —Unknown Related to these wise words is a quote from Nelson Mandela, “I never lose. I either win or learn.” Life is hard, hearts get broken but how we respond to these things sets the course for how we move forward. Growing pains hurt and are often uncomfortable, but it’s vital that we learn to grow with grace.

We repeat what we don’t repair. #speaklife Most of us choose NOT to deal with emotions, past hurts, traumas, and especially grief. While this strategy may work in the short term, we all know that suppressing those feelings only causes us more pain in the end. And in worst-case scenarios, burying those hurts can cause us to act out in unhealthy ways and hurt ourselves or others. Be honest with yourself. Sometimes you have to rip off the bandaid to truly heal.

I am the kind of person who will restart a song because I got distracted and wasn’t appreciating it enough. —Unknown I’ve been known to do this…a lot! As I age, I realize more and more the value of giving something or someone your full, undivided attention. It’s harder than you might think, but worth it in the end. Always.

Stand close to people who feel like sunshine. —Unknown In parenting circles, a common rule of thumb is to make sure you know your kids’ friends. Children are greatly influenced by their peers and research shows that attitude is directly influenced by the five people you spend the most time with. To some degree, these same stats can be applied across all age groups. That being said, choose wisely. The company you keep has a direct correlation to your happiness and well-being.

The way we treat people we disagree with the most is a report card on what we’ve learned about love. —Bob Goff This is a tough one. I wholeheartedly believe in extending grace and kindness, but this is easier said than done. In today’s cancel culture and divisive political climate, it’s important to remember that no one moment or phrase defines any one person. We are all multi-faceted, complicated, imperfect people who make mistakes. How we respond to one another in moments like this exposes our true character.

Be careful who you trust. Salt and sugar look the same. —Unknown I thank God every day for the gift of intuition. While I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, I have learned many times over that not everyone has your best interest in mind and that not all intentions are good. Guard your heart.

No response is a response. —Unknown No response is hard and difficult. No response is rejection and hurt feelings…and no response is in fact a response. Despite our best efforts, we don’t always get the outcomes we desire.

Anger is just sad’s bodyguard. —Unknown I’ve noticed two dominant emotions during the past year…sadness and anger. I had never given much thought to these emotions as a pair, but can clearly see the connection now. Dealing with loss, having to hear “no” and living in fear of the virus has caused a large number of us to become defensive and mad. Viewing this anger as a result of sadness and disappointment helps us to see each other differently and respond with sensitivity.

Gut feelings are guardian angels. Listen to them. —Unknown I think women have the hardest time with this lesson. We’ve been taught to be nice and make nice. This is all well and good, but don’t do it at the expense of your well-being, peace of mind or safety. Trust your gut!

it is no small thing / to sing in the rain —courage Humans are resilient, 2020 has taught us that if nothing else. It may take a while, but don’t give up on yourself or a situation! What a testimony it is to learn to “sing” in the rain!

Grief is learning to live with someone in your heart instead of your arms. —Unknown This has been the hardest lesson. One that I’m continuing to learn, understand, and struggle with on a daily basis…my mother is gone from this earth but continues to live in me and in all those who loved her dearly.

Praying blessings, purpose and joy abound in 2021.

Cling to what is good… Romans 12:9

“Eye” Opening (A Lesson in Perspective)

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The fingerprints of God are often invisible until you see them in the rearview mirror. -Levi Lusko

It had been a long season…one of more “downs” than “ups.”  Sometimes life is like that.  They say that a mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child…and, wow, do I get that now.  Still, I held out hope (even if it was just the tiniest glimmer.) I had been looking forward to this day, a day where we could all unceremoniously start a new chapter.  It had arrived…without fanfare and without jubilation.  Only numbness and fatigue.

I had gotten so used to the old pattern, the barely breathing pattern where the emotions were so close to the surface that it was practically a miracle if no one noticed.  The questions still resounded in my head, “if only…could I have…and what if?”  Pointless questions really.  I had gone over them a thousand times in my mind. Day after day.  I prayed.  And I kept praying.  I trusted that the lesson would reveal itself.  Maybe.  Someday.

In the quietness of that afternoon I found myself searching out a needle and thread.  Crossing a “finish line” meant that I could now tend to things that I had put off.  The scattered stuffing of the basement tiger could no longer be set aside.  I asked, “Don’t you think it’s time we got rid of this?  Maybe it’s time to throw the tiger away….”  No.  It was a gift.  It was still useful.  It was a part of the family.  In reality, it was huge, it had a hole, it was getting stuffing EVERYWHERE.

When I finally found the sewing supplies I needed, I headed downstairs.  Needle in hand I realized that I forgot to bring my reading glasses.  “There’s no way you’ll be able to thread the needle without them,” the voice in my head noted.  Uggghh.  I tried any way.  Nope.  Tried again.  Ain’t happenin’.  On the third attempt I adjusted my perspective.  Moving the needle in front of the golden belly of the tiger changed the background just enough…allowing me to focus.  Suddenly the eye that had eluded me stood out clear as day.  The black thread easily went through.  Victory.  (I needed that.)

I stitched up the stuffed tiger and ran my fingers over its new battle scar.  Not bad.  For the most part, the new stitches were practically undetectable…that is until the last few.  Probably where the hole started, I thought.  Damaged faux fur, but totally fixable.  With the right perspective…totally fixable.

For I know the one in whom I trust.  And I am sure that He is able.  2 Timothy 1:12

Open the Door

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Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn’t know you left open.  –John Barrymore

If the title sounds like a command, I think you’re right. If you have any guesses as to how this pertains to my life…I’d love it if you’d clue me in!  On its face “open the door” seems pretty straightforward, but since I got this word from the Holy Spirit, I know it has to be a little more (okay, a lot more) nuanced than that.

The message came to me a little more than a year ago.  That’s a long time to ponder its exact meaning!  At that moment, I thought it was a word of encouragement.  You see my introverted nature is constantly trying to balance the fact that I live with three extroverts.  So, I figured this was an assuring message about hospitality…a way to move me forward and out of my comfort zone.  Satisfied with that, I went about my business and learned to better carve out some “introvert recharging time” for myself while welcoming the kiddos’ friends with open arms.  And it worked.  Our home is basically a mini version of Grand Central Station and (believe it or not) I’m actually good with it.  My kids have really great friends…tweens/teens that I enjoy having at our house, kids who are positive influences for my babies and are all around good people.  Score, right?  That’s what I thought, too!

Still, the command wasn’t satisfied.  Hmmm…what now?  I tried to push it to the back of my mind.  If it was really important, the answer would reveal itself.  Nope.  So, after much more consideration, I arrived at a new conclusion.  It wasn’t so much about letting someone/something IN…it was about letting someone/something OUT.  I was holding my children back.  That had to be it.  I was “s-mothering” them!  (That’s smothering and mothering at the same time!)  Of course.  I’m a little overprotective, a little too available, a little too quick to solve their problems.  I’ll admit it, I am my own “afterschool special.”  To remedy the situation I tried to take a step back (just a little.)  I understand that independence is an important part of growing up.  Maybe I didn’t need to be fully enmeshed, just engaged.  Yes, that’s it-ENGAGED.  Mystery solved.  (Feel free to start laughing at me now.)

Wrong again, I tried to push this edict away.  Burdensome, that’s what this was.  I had no idea what the answer could be and honestly, I didn’t want to be bothered by it anymore.  We were busy.  We were overscheduled.  I was tired.  It was summer and the days were hot, long and full.  I didn’t have time for this.  I’d already given the subject so much thought and prayer.  The answer was not coming and I began to doubt the message.  Surely, I had heard it wrong.  If this was for me, then there was obviously something that I was missing.  So I put it on a “spiritual shelf.”  I’d deal with it in the fall….

Fall came and went.  We rolled into winter and the message remained the same.  From the “spiritual shelf,” I could still hear it calling me.  And I still had no idea how to respond.  It wasn’t until after the holidays that a (or another) new thought occurred to me.  Perhaps, this was more personal.  Maybe, I needed to go “outside?”  Take a chance?  What if there was something that I personally needed to take care of?  Could this message be calling me to open the door and step out in faith?

I thought about a job search, looking into starting some sort of side business, and even going back to school to earn a master’s degree.  I stepped back from some volunteer commitments and ventured into new volunteer opportunities.  In the past, this type of itch has been satisfied through creativity…so I began baking up a storm, photographing everything in sight, playing the piano, sewing, daydreaming, reading, writing, etc.  And…nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.

When something weighs heavily on your heart, it’s really hard to put it “away.”  I know I’m not the only one who’s ever been here.  There’s a reason why we can’t “run” from our problems.  The Bible speaks to it (just ask Jonah) and we all probably have countless personal anecdotes about trying to “run” when things get sticky or uncomfortable.  And I wholeheartedly believe that there’s a reason God has whispered (and occasionally shouted) this command to me.  I just wish I knew what it was.

In the meantime, I’m actively waiting.  Understanding that prayer is answered with YES, NO, GROW and my least favorite–WAIT.  I know that I have nothing to complain about.  Life is good.  We are well.  God is with us.  In this waiting season (yes, I’m learning to better practice patience,) I’m trying hard to be fully present.  This is more difficult than it sounds as I waiver between feeling apathetic and restless to energized and eager.  It’s a situation that I’m not used to and one that I’m certainly not prepared for.  I didn’t ask for change…and maybe that’s what this is all about.  Yet, I know and trust that there is a purpose.  Knock.  Knock.

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.  Matthew 7:7-8

 

 

 

 

In These Desperate Times

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Are we not all desperate one way or another?  Taylor Caldwell, author

The funny thing about standing on the edge is that there’s typically little to no warning that you’re about to go over.  No countdown.  No alert system.  I usually only realize that I’ve arrived at this point when one foot is dangling and the other is making every crazy attempt to stay planted.  It’s a dance I’ve seen countless times and one that I’m not proud of.

Lately, this idea of desperation has been rearing its ugly head in all kinds of places.  I see it everywhere–in my home, overheard at the grocery store, on television/radio, it’s become a mainstay on social media, I hear it in the voices of my closest loved ones and it even stares back at me from the bathroom mirror.  It’s become practically inescapable and totally overwhelming.  And it appears to be the new norm.

What I hate most about desperation is that it clouds decision-making, muddies our sense of right and wrong, and worst of all causes us to say/do things we (should) almost immediately regret (although that’s not always the case.)  And “desperation” has become so incredibly clever.  Nowadays, it masks itself as “urgency,” “FoMO” (fear of missing out) and even “self-righteousness”…often times creating an anxiety that holds us captive.  This type of desperation not only leaves us hopeless but it creates fear, anger,  and sadness.  Desperation puts us in situations we could have never imagined…poisoning ourselves and everything around us.  Numb and cowering like a defenseless animal, we can only respond by lashing out at one another or internalizing our darkest fears.  When these feelings reach their peak, one is left feeling incredibly alone.  And yet, we keep coming back to the same well.  Doing the same things.  Repeating this frantic pattern over and over.

Where is the faith, the peace, the hope?  As a Christian, I think it’s in the same place it’s always been–Jesus.  I’ve noticed that as our culture continues to distance itself from God…the only truly content people I can find are those who consider themselves followers of Christ.  In fact, one of the reasons I was so drawn to Christianity was the sense of peace that Jesus offers.  Picture the most devout person you know and I’m willing to bet that person just exudes peace.  Shining, content, grace-filled peace…in abundance.  The kind of peace we hope to capture for ourselves.

We’ve been conditioned to believe that peace is elusive…only attainable after years of practice.  We’ve been told that peace is for the enlightened, those who have achieved some higher level learning.  We’ve been advised that peace is for the naive.  And we’ve been warned that peace simply cannot exist.  And I think that’s exactly what the world wants us to believe.

There are no quick answers here, only prayer.  Distancing ourselves from desperation requires discipline and personal growth.  I imagine it’s a lifelong endeavor, but one well worth every effort.  I refuse to drink from the world’s cup and fall prey to these desperate times.  I will continue to seek out those whose grace-filled examples serve as encouragement and inspiration.   And I fully plan to surround myself with only His perfect peace.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.  Romans 15:13

Why I STILL Make My Kids’ Beds

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If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed.  –Admiral William H. McRaven

I am the mother of two kiddos…a tween girl and a teen boy and I STILL make their beds. Not every day (as if that makes the whole thing better,) but practically every day.  This revelation is something that I rarely talk about and a topic that makes me a little uncomfortable sharing.  At first glance, it probably sounds like I’m some sort of Martha Stewart control freak or worse yet–a mother who coddles her kids too much.  I can hear it now, “She STILL makes their beds?  Really?  Wow.  How old are they?”  On more than one occasion I’ve been accused of not letting them grow up, trying to make them permanent dependents, permitting/encouraging laziness and impeding their emotional development.  Ouch!  An unmade bed is a pet peeve for a lot of people.  I get it.  Honestly, I know it’s a little (or a lot) quirky, but I really don’t plan on stopping anytime soon…and I have my reasons.

I’m a creature of habit.  When the children were little, I would use the time that I spent in their bedrooms as an opportunity to pray for them.  Nothing fancy or formal…just a few quick words.  Praises for the good days and prayers for strength on the tough ones.  And while we have prayed with the kiddos at bedtime ever since they were teeny tiny, I quickly discovered how much I think about my children when they’re away from home.  When my son went off to school I missed him terribly.  It was just preschool and just a few hours a day, but I wondered how he was doing?  What he was doing?  If he was okay? And on and on.  Instead of spinning in this cycle of worry, I decided to get pro-active and purposefully pray for his day while I made his bed.  And I never stopped.  When my daughter came along, I added her to the daily ritual.  In the five minutes it takes to make a bed I would pray for his/her well-being, his/her character, his/her faith development, those in their classrooms, their teachers, their circle of friends, etc.  I prayed offensively and defensively.  Some days I give thanks and other times I find myself on my knees (things sure get complicated as they grow up!)  But most importantly, I pray regularly.

After so many years, this daily practice hasn’t changed much.  Some days I sing hymns as I go about straightening up their rooms.  I mostly pray silently, but occasionally I pray out loud.  The family dog even gets in on the action.  She frequently comes into the room and guards the door…she knows the routine and has become something of a prayer partner.  This past week I have been in earnest prayer for one of my kiddos and decided to write about my prayer pattern.  What’s been reinforced to me lately is that praying includes a lot of listening, too.  And I am grateful for that.  What started out as a personal antidote to worry and stress has proven itself time and time again as a recipe for peace and assurance…and I thought it was worth sharing with my fellow parents in the trenches.

Someday my kids will make their own beds (and in case you’re wondering, YES, they know how.)  But for the time being, I’m happy to straighten sheets, tidy up pillows and simply pray.

Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.  1 Thessalonians 5:16