Why It Is Impossible To Love A Child Like Your Own

I have to give up on loving my children. I have tried since before they were born to love them well, but I just can’t do it.  You would think it would be easy to love such a sweet and perfect gift. You would think that the adorable way they mispronounced “breakfast” as “bref-tist” every morning when they were toddlers would be enough for me to fall head over heels. Their contagious laughter should be enough for me to hold on and never let go.

But I have to let go.

The truth is they aren’t even mine. They are on loan from their Heavenly Father who has entrusted me to raise them for Him.

As much as I think I love my daughters, their Father loves them more. I can’t compete with that. No matter how many peanut butter sandwiches I cut into hearts, or how many notes I leave in their lunchboxes I can never love them as if they were my own.

Sometimes I wonder what He must have been thinking when He loaned them to me. Surely there would have been someone else better suited for the job. But the truth is that God knows what He’s doing and He never makes mistakes. So, if He thinks I am capable of raising His gorgeous Abby Faith and Lucy then it must be true. Of course, I cannot do it without His help and guidance, which I often fail to seek.

I wish I could do it. I wish I could love them like He does. I wish I could give them all the grace, mercy, love and patience they crave. But I can’t.

My only prayer is that they know that too and one day will seek His face over mine. That would be the ultimate reward for taking care of His kids here on Earth.

God's daughters striking a pose on a walk today.
God’s daughters striking a pose on a walk today.

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Christmas Lights

Light bulb lamp on blackboard background with copy space

I can’t stop thinking about what happened to me on Christmas Eve. I’ve been praying about whether or not to share it, but I feel that if I don’t it would be like trying to hide my light under a bushel. So this is a prayerfully thought out version of the Gift I received straight from the Manger on Christmas Eve.

I have been struggling a lot this year with the Winter Blues that is caused by the lack of sunlight.  I haven’t been officially diagnosed, I just know I am not myself. And my poor husband knows it too. It’s been so dreary this season already and it’s just barely Winter. I feel like I’ve been trapped in darkness. I’ve been crying for no reason. Crying for made up reasons. And crying for reasons that happened years ago. I feel like I’m just going through the motions to survive until Spring.

Trying to get into the Christmas spirit when you feel like that is next to impossible. And I felt guilty for feeling awful which then makes me feel even worse. Sigh! I had no reason to feel so bad. I have a comfortable home, a job that I love, and a sweet husband and well-behaved children. I have my health, good friends, and family close by. There was no reason, other than the lack of light, for me to feel so blue all the time.  So, I installed full-spectrum lighting in the main rooms of my house just to try and feel better.

I had spent Christmas Eve morning crying over the fact that I haven’t had Christmas with my brothers in about 17 years. I cried because the pie crust broke. I cried because I missed a song I wanted to hear on Pandora and I lost the CD. I cried because I needed two boxes of Jell-O for a recipe and I had only one. Then I cried because the Jell-O didn’t set. I cried because I was crying for crying out loud! No wonder my sweet husband was more than willing to run to the store for more Jell-O!

I ached. Way down in my soul, I ached. There are no words to describe the way it felt. I equate it somewhat to oppression because nothing I was doing on my own was relieving the burning weight on my heart. And it felt like I was looking at my life through a murky glass filled with my own messed-up history. Pretty much, I was trying to make myself feel better on my own.

That is always a dumb idea.

I attended Christmas Eve service with my family at the church I was married in 15 years ago. It’s a beautiful church anyway, but at Christmas with all the poinsettias and candles! Oh! Just Gorgeous! And such a sweet little place close to home.

I  was waiting for the service to begin and listening to a girl sing a lovely song.  I honestly couldn’t hear her very well so I was only partially paying attention. I was thinking of all the things that needed to be done once I got home in order for Christmas morning to happen.

She continued to sing, “What shall I give Him? I’ll give Him my heart.”

Did anyone else feel that? I looked around because didn’t anyone else actually feel someone touch their heart? Mine had literally fluttered.

I took a deep breath and I watched the acolyte continue to light the candles.

“I am the only light you need.”

Shh! Did anyone else hear that? I sat still in the pew.

“I came into this dark world over 2ooo years ago as a light to provide Hope and Joy. Sweet child, you have been searching for the wrong kind of light.”

When I realized He was speaking to me, in an instant my oppression turned to joy! The burning weight in my heart was lifted. I felt like the murky water I was doing life in had been replaced with fresh abundant living water that springs eternal.

I felt full of light.

I realize this is a rare and precious gift. And I am struggling with coming up with words to describe it.  The best I can come up with are:

Emmanuel, Light of the World, Prince of Peace, Wonderful Counselor

The sun continues to hide behind the clouds. And the journey along this Winter path is still pretty long.  But my unmanageable sadness has been plucked from me and replaced with eternal light. The light I should have been seeking all along.


John 12:46
I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.

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Different By Design

Today I just want to keep things simple because I think we’ve lost our ability to do that and be comfortable. So, today I just want to share with you some lyrics that have been dancing with me for several weeks.  I don’t think they even need much of an introduction because when you read them, you will be able to relate. You will know exactly the issue. Whatever it is.

Because we all have one. You may be passionate about gun-control or the lack of it. You may be teaching your children about bullying and how to overcome it. Civil rights might keep you up at night. Or perhaps abortion rights or wrongs is what moves you. You may disagree with happenings in the Middle East or right in your own home town.

The point is, this world is awful enough. And we were created for community. I believe we’re losing sight of that and the end result will be tragic. If we were all created in His image, if we all are meant for a purpose then why do we have such a hard time embracing each other’s unique design?


City On A Hill ~ Casting Crowns

Did you hear of the city on the hill?
Said one old man to the other.
It once shined bright, and it would be shining still,
But they all started turning on each other.You see the poets thought the dancers were shallow
And the soldiers thought the poets were weak
And the elders saw the young ones as foolish
And the rich man never heard the poor man speak

But one by one, they ran away
With their made up minds to leave it all behind
And the light began to fade
In the City on the Hill, the City on the Hill

Each one thought that they knew better
But they were different by design
Instead of standing strong together
They let their differences divide

And one by one, they ran away
With their made up minds to leave it all behind
And the light began to fade
In the City on the Hill, the City on the Hill

And the world is searching still

But it was the rhythm of the dancers
That gave the poets life
It was the spirit of the poets
That gave the soldiers strength to fight
It was fire of the young ones
It was the wisdom of the old
It was the story of the poor man
That needed to be told

It is the rhythm of the dancers
That gives the poets life
It is the spirit of the poets
That gives the soldiers strength to fight
It is fire of the young ones
It is the wisdom of the old
It is the story of the poor man
That’s needing to be told

But one by one will we run away
With our made up minds to leave it all behind
As the light begins to fade in the City on the Hill

One by one will we run away
With our made up minds to leave it all behind
As the light begins to fade in the City on the Hill
The city on the hill

(Come home)
And the Father’s calling still
(Come home)
To the city on the hill
(Come home)

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Grace At The Table

Table settings on wooden  background.Ever have one of those moments where you just know you were in the right place at the right time, but you weren’t exactly sure why?

The other night my husband and I were out on a very rare date night. We had no plans of where to go, we were just so happy to be free! You know the feeling.

So, we’re driving down the road discussing our dining options and finally land on a popular Italian place that we normally reserve for such special occasions like freedom from our children or birthdays.  The place is normally packed and we were starving, but we decided that the Alfredo sauce was worth waiting for.

We drove into the parking lot and to our surprise there was one parking spot right by the door. We slid in and made a comment about how that never happens and were pretty proud of ourselves for pulling it off. This date had the potential to be epic!

Once inside the restaurant I looked around and it felt a little empty. I checked my watch. Yep, dinner time. I thought back through the week. Yep, Friday night. Hmm…did we miss some health department failing score report or something? I honestly didn’t care. I was hungry and on a date. Besides, did I mention the Alfredo sauce?

We were seated immediately and our very friendly server greeted us with a smile and a Southern drawl. She helped us decide on some of the new dishes they offered and we settled in to enjoy our meal. We were really having a nice time together and oblivious to our divine appointment.

The couple sitting across from us didn’t seem as pleased with their experience as we were with ours. They sent their salad back. Twice. And asked to see a manager about it. Then, when their entrée’s arrived I could hear the woman complain to her husband about something and she made him get up to track down the server. When he finally returned and their server made things acceptable we overheard the woman firmly instruct her husband to give their server “not ONE penny!”

And that’s when my husband showed up for the appointment we both didn’t know he had with a God who delights in surprises.

“I want to pay for their meal.” He said to me quietly from across the table.

Honestly I was a little shocked. I thought he was joking. “Why?” I asked him with a little disbelief.

“Because they don’t deserve it.”

And that is all he had to say. I got it. I nodded my approval and we quietly discussed how to pull it off anonymously.

Or, at least we thought it would be anonymously. When the server brought the couple back the bill we had paid for she announced that we had covered it. My husband and I both felt like crawling under our own table. That was not at all the reason we paid for the meal. Because what we didn’t want to happen, happened.

They started gushing and making a scene and asking us why we would do such a thing. We tried to quiet them with a simple response that we just wanted to bless them and my poor husband was biting his tongue so hard I thought it might fall off about the real reason he felt lead to do it:

They didn’t deserve it. They were rude. They were hateful. They were entitled. They were stingy. They were ungrateful.

The woman kept giving us reasons as to why we didn’t have to pay for them. They had the money to pay for it. They owned a business. There was no reason for us to cover their bill. She was right. There was no reason for us to bless them. We could have been justified in calling them out on their behavior. We could have demanded that they apologize to their server, and caused a scene.

But, Grace.

When God gives us what we don’t deserve. It’s free and abundant. You don’t have to own your own business to receive it. You don’t have to have the money to pay for it. You don’t have to do anything! You just have to accept it and say, “Thank You.”

The woman asked for our information so that they could find a way to repay us. Of course we refused. I just simply asked her to pay it forward. She seemed so struck by the concept that she repeated it. “Pay it forward.” She paused and then said, “We’ll pay for someone else’s meal sometime.”

I hope they do. I hope our appointment time wasn’t wasted. I hope the tiniest little bit of grace God allowed us to share would grow into something beautifully uncontainable.  I hope it manifests into a behavior change for that couple and that it would open their eyes to God’s love. I hope that it would spark a revolution and an attitude of thankfulness across generations.  I hope it spreads kindness like wildfire across this great nation and around the world.

It seems so far-fetched that our one little gift could do that. But I’d be willing to guess that God hopes the same things about the grace He gives us…

Grace Letterpress“God saved you by His grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God.” Ephesians 2:8


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To My Child, With Love

Christmas Letter

Dear Child,

I want to apologize to you. You see I am guilty of something I thought I would never do. I am a bit ashamed of what I have become and I hope you can look passed my faults and forgive me. I never meant to do it, and I never meant to hurt you.

I’m sorry I grew up and lost most of my wonder and excitement for the season. I’m sorry I let my lack of time, money and nostalgia allow me to become bitter, hassled and overwhelmed. I’m sorry I started looking at Christmas as a chore instead of what it really is- an entire season to celebrate!

And that is what I see when I look at you! To you it’s not about stressing over the presents, getting frustrated hanging the lights, and trying to find time for all the parties. To you it’s not about the rush and the noise. I can honestly see in you that Christmas is a feeling in your heart. I can read it on your face. I can see it in your smile and the twinkle in your eye. You glow with the love of the Christmas season and it’s because you take such delight in the little things. You remember the real reason we’re celebrating.

Won’t you share some of that with me? Won’t you teach me how to enjoy the season again?

Teach me how you treasure each ornament, even the broken ones. Teach me how you enjoy the lights, even the misplaced ones. Teach me how to dream again, even for the impossible. Won’t you, sweet child of mine?

I want what you have! I want that glow. The fire in your eyes. I want to get excited over Santa and all the traditions that go with him. I want to embrace the cold weather with overflowing cups of hot chocolate. I want to take more time for snuggling on the couch and dreaming with you than I take to shop for things that don’t matter. I want to show the world how much Christmas means to me! I’m tired of just going through the motions. I want to experience the season with the utmost joy and true peace.

Thank you, sweet, beautiful, Lucy for lighting the spark that I hope will fuel the fire for the best Christmas we’ve ever had!




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And That Has Made All The Difference

Inside is one of Alabama's best cheeseburgers. In the middle of Nowhere, Alabama.
Inside is one of Alabama’s best cheeseburgers. In the middle of Nowhere, Alabama.

I love my dad. I know that’s a pretty generic statement. Most people love their dad’s. But mine has a really subtle way of continually teaching me, even though I’m not a school girl anymore. He often catches me by surprise with his wisdom and the things he says.

My dad is a self-proclaimed purist. He loves keeping things simple and appreciates even the smallest gestures. Yet, he is brilliant. He is constantly thinking. In fact, that is one of his favorite hobbies. He will spend hours in his study working out a math problem in his head or contemplating theories of physics. I didn’t get that gene but I love being with my dad. We love to make each other laugh and he makes me feel happy to be me.

When he invited me on a little road trip with my mom and my girls today I knew I was in for a treat.

In fact when I climbed into the car he said, “Bem, you’re in for a treat!” He still uses an abbreviated version of my childhood nickname.

“How’s that?” I asked with the least bit of apprehension. I wouldn’t expect anything else from this man.

“You get the scenic route today!”

Of course I got the scenic route. My father loves back roads America. He’s always taking the road less travelled. I have so many fond  memories of gravel road adventures and the places we ended up because we took them. Gorgeous roaring rivers. Breathtaking mountaintop views. Deep secluded valleys.

Today our quest was to find what has been nominated by the Huntsville Times as Alabama’s Best Cheeseburger.  Now, one might not expect to find the state’s best cheeseburger at the end of a windy road, but I was up for the challenge. Besides, it’s more about the journey than the destination.

“We need to get there early to beat the lunch crowd.” Never one to like a busy restaurant, my dad kept contemplating the time and the best strategy to attack this joint. But we were in the middle of nowhere and so I said,

“Um, dad. I have a really hard time believing that because we are having to take this road to get to the place that we should really expect a crowd.”

He actually belly laughed at that statement. So I went back to trusting him.

We rounded the last curve and he exclaimed “Ah! Good! It’s not so crowded today!”

And I seriously asked him where the building was that he was referring. All I could see was a shack on the side of the road.

“Right there! In front of us.”

The building we had travelled nearly 45 minutes for was no bigger than a gas station. In fact it was a gas station!

Alabama’s best cheeseburger? Ok.

The place, though not crowded, had a line of people waiting to place their orders. I love my burgers with everything on them. My dad, the purist, hates onions and pickles and only wants a simple burger. We placed our orders and found a table near the back. When our food arrived the first bite really did explain its prestigious nomination. We were busy with our elbows deep in french fries and licking grease from our fingers when I teased my dad that he needed onions and pickles to make his burger truly the best.

And that’s where my lesson of the day came.

“No thanks! I do not do as the world does.”

No, Daddy. You don’t. And I am so thankful for that.

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is- His good, pleasing and perfect will.” Romans 12:2





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When You Love Someone


There were so many times when I was a kid that I messed up. I was defiant, disobedient and untrustworthy. I wanted to do things my own way. Really, I was just trying to see what I could get away with. Pushing those boundaries.

I can remember times when I had really done wrong and my mom would want to ‘talk’ to me. Oh, how I dreaded that! I absolutely hated it. I wanted to do anything but ‘talk’ about anything. Especially to my mom. I would have much rather sulked in my room by myself and drowned my sorrows in my music.

But she was pretty relentless about it. And looking back I realize that there really wasn’t that much ‘talking’ going on at all. She would just sit on my bed while I cried into my pillow and willed her away. The longer she sat there, the angrier I would become. I can remember screaming in my head for her to just leave me alone!

She never did. Because she loves me.

Well, it’s funny how life tends to catch up to you when you least expect it. Recently my tween-age daughter got into trouble for lying to myself and my husband. We punished her and sent her to bed. Of course, because she’s a good kid, she was crying and remorseful. It hurt me to see her that way, and well,  I just couldn’t resist the urge to go and “talk” to her. So I went into her darkened bedroom and sat on the bed.

“Go away!” She said through her tears.  That stung a little because all I wanted to do was hold her and tell her that I forgave her. I just wanted to take away her sorrow and make it alright.

I reached my hand out to her and placed it on her back and she pulled away from me. I expected that, but I still left my hand there. And like my mother, so many years before had done, I just sat there with her and wished she would forgive herself. I wished that she could see that I was there for her, always loving her even in her faults. That’s just what you do when you love someone so deeply.

Reflecting on the incident and the ones I had been through with my own mother I realized that my relationship with Jesus is much the same way. How many times have I messed up? I’ve let Him down. I’ve lied too. And I have found myself crying over what I had done. Instead of allowing him to “talk” to me, I’ve told Him to go away. I’ve ignored Him, and I have pulled away when He has reached out to touch me.

And just like a loving parent He has waited patiently for me to come back to His open arms. He already forgave me before I even asked Him for forgiveness. Because that is what you do when you love someone so deeply.

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The Comfort Movement

ComfortWithin the last few months I left a job that I loved. I was a Preschool Teacher for 6 years and I loved (almost) every minute of it. It was very rewarding and fulfilling. I used to joke that I went to work to play. I was very comfortable on the floor with the children, dancing and singing silly songs. But that really was my problem.

I was comfortable. And comfortable is a dangerous place.

When you’re comfortable it’s easy to forget the rest of the world around you. The uncomfortable ones.  When you’re comfortable you can’t be growing and producing fruit. Fruit that is meant for you to give to others and inspire them to also grow. When you are comfortable it is easy to become lazy, even tired. Nothing gets done when you’re comfortable. Change can’t happen. Lives aren’t touched and you aren’t challenged.

My problem was that I didn’t know I was comfortable. It’s a challenge to teach a room full of active children. I was exhausted at the end of every day. I was teaching kids about Jesus and planting the seeds of the Gospel. I was doing God’s work.  And I was good at it. I had no plans to leave. I was content with the circumstances I was in. I was happy. I had friends at work. I really felt like I was making a difference.

But if you aren’t doing the work that God has planned for you to do, you aren’t in His will no matter how ‘good’ it seems.

It should not have confused me then, when God pricked my heart for a change and asked me to leave the classroom. I didn’t understand  the difference between content and comfortable. Content is embracing  the circumstances God hands you and trusting Him to provide for you and your journey.  Comfort means you’re perfectly happy doing nothing more tomorrow than what you did today.  God never asks us to be comfortable. And I was perfectly happy with my tomorrow being just like my today, so I began to feel restless because I was not being obedient to what God wanted me to do.

I started feeling really lost. I really began to drift from God because I loved my job. I honestly did not want to be in His will if it meant I had to leave my comfortable classroom. I was hurt that He would ask me to even consider a change. Didn’t He know how much I loved what I did? Didn’t He know how much of a difference I was making? Didn’t He understand me at all? Quitting my job meant the loss of an income. It meant giving up the stuff that I loved. It meant not seeing the people that I loved or getting the hugs from the children that I crave.

I am such an arrogant, prideful child.

So much of my time was wasted clinging to what was comfortable to me that I really became miserable. I cried. I lost sleep. I made up so many excuses. I was scared to let go and trust that God really did know what he was doing. He slammed so many doors and yet I still, in my childlike ways, tried to pry them back open.

vecchia porta di legno

I am the child that causes Him to shake His head, roll His eyes and cross His arms waiting for me to finally give up my tantrum and take His hand. I am the child that needs to know before I leave the comfort of what I am doing that I will again be comfortable with what He is asking me to do.

It wasn’t until I was finally obedient and gave my notice to quit my job that I finally found true comfort. Peace. I knew that I was doing what God wanted me to do, even though I was grieving the loss of something I loved. What I didn’t know was that God did indeed have something else for me. He gave me another job working in Preschool Ministries that challenges me and some days really stretches me to the borders of my comfort zone. But the whole journey has taught me that God isn’t just inside my comfort zone. He’s wherever I am. Wherever you are. Now I just have to learn to always trust that truth…




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When A Child Speaks You Should Listen

Abby Faith happily freezing her tail off.
Abby Faith happily freezing her tail off.

Last week I wrote about the 10 reasons why I hate Halloween. Not much has changed. I still hate it. Those issues run deep, y’all. But I wanted to share a little story of the love I found that day. And it came from an unlikely source.

I have two daughters. Both of them are beautiful and both of them are stubborn in their own ways.  Lucy is 9 and loves shoes, clothes, jewelry and can’t wait to be old enough to wear make-up. Her sister, Abby Faith, is 12 and is most comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt and couldn’t care less to even wear lip-gloss. So it surprised me how anxious she was to wear make-up on Halloween. She was actually planning to wear her Greek Goddess costume from last year which was such a relief to this costume-challenged soul. However, it was sleeveless.  And the forecast called for a freeze-warning. I seem to remember this being one of the reasons why I hate Halloween, but I digress.

She started getting her make-up on 4 hours before our church’s Fall Festival. She put the recycled dress on and was getting very excited about the night. Like every good mother I warned her over and over again about the weather. I pleaded with her to find a jacket to wear with it, or find a shirt to wear underneath it. But like every stubborn child, she swore she would be warm enough.

There comes a time when mothering with words doesn’t work any more. You have to just let them learn through consequence. So I let her be. I let her make the choice to go sleeveless in winter weather for the sake of her vanity. But since I am her mom I told her that the coat was optional. Complaining was not. If she complained once she would have to find an empty room and sit there for the rest of the festival.

We arrived and it felt like Elsa had a firm grip on the place. It was freezing! I thought to myself that my child wasn’t going to even make it three minutes without fussing about her circumstances. I was already getting angry with the anticipation of having to punish her. I already hated the holiday why did she have to make it worse? Couldn’t she just do what I asked her to do? Then we could make the best of the situation, just get some candy and go home.

I left her at her trunk-or-treat post outside and went into the building with my youngest and I mumbled to myself the whole way.  We did a few of the indoor activities and then decided to head back out to check on Abby Faith. By that time it had started to rain and the wind was really picking up. I shook my head and rolled my eyes to see my daughter standing out in the cold without any sleeves. My defenses were up as I approached her and asked if she was ok. And that is when she pierced my heart.

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “I’m not doing this for me.”

I pulled her into my arms and wrapped her up as tight as I could.

Oh, child! How do you do that? How do you teach me so much in one little sentence?

What a humbling experience!  Here I thought I was teaching her that she should listen to me and wear the dad-gum coat. Really, the whole experience was for me. This life is not about me and what makes me comfortable. It’s not about how much I hate to carve pumpkins and shop for over-priced costumes. It’s about loving and doing for others regardless of the circumstances and finding joy within it all.

Should she have listened to me and worn the coat? Sure! But how many times have we all done something against what we really should have done and then grumbled when the outcome wasn’t in our favor? How many times have we allowed our circumstances dictate our joy?

I have done that more times than I am willing to admit.

Thank you, sweet daughter, for being an example of Love to me.



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Life Is Good

BrittanyLife and death. If you are reading this you get to experience both. It’s inevitable and pretty much the only thing that we as humans all have in common. We live. We die. Hopefully somewhere in the living part we all get to experience joy, triumphs, love and acceptance. It’s that dyeing part that seems to trip us up sometimes. We all know how to live because we’re doing it. None of us alive have ever died. It’s strange. It’s mysterious. And most of us aren’t really that anxious to do it.

I hope that if you know me it is obvious that I am a Christian. As a Christian I try to live my life in the present while still fixing my eyes on my eternal destination of Heaven. That is extremely hard to do even in the best of circumstances. And it’s only by the constant seeking of my Savior’s face that I get through the tough times.

The story about Brittany Maynard was extremely troubling for me. It bothered me so much I could actually feel it in my gut. I think that must have been sorrow. Sorrow for her disregard for the sanctity of her own life and sorrow for her lack of hope for what God could do with it. I am sure that her decision was not made lightly. I am sure she considered her loved ones and gathered information to make her decision. But how sad that she didn’t trust God enough to deliver her in His perfect timing. To take matters into her own hands simply means she didn’t believe that it was possible for God to work a miracle through her.

I have lost loved ones. We all have. I’ve seen those who are the most precious to me lose their health, their independence and in some cases their mind. It’s never pretty. It’s not what God designed for us. He doesn’t want us to have to go through the sickness and pain because He loves us. It was our free will in the Garden of Eden that brought the sickness and pain upon ourselves. It was us, humans, that decided we knew better than God. It was us that got arrogant and changed the course of history. It was us that thought we had a better plan

That hasn’t worked out so well for us.

I make no secret that I am Pro-life. It is probably the one topic that I am the most passionate about. And it wasn’t until just a few years ago that I realized that Pro-life to me didn’t mean just my support for the unborn. It seemed awfully hypocritical for me to be so passionate about a baby’s life, but not the lives of others. Therefore, I changed my stance and I no longer support the death penalty.  I am not the sustainer and giver of life. All life is precious. Who am I that I should be allowed to judge who should live and who should die? And that goes for my own life as well. If I have truly given my life to Christ, that means I should trust Him with my every breath. Healthy or sick. Living or dying.

I pray for Brittany’s family.  I sympathize with her circumstances and I can’t imagine the emotions and the hardship. I have never been faced with a terminal diagnosis and I pray I never will. But if God  chooses that path for me, I hope I have the courage to live until He calls me home.


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