Encouragement grounded in Scripture
Rooted in truth. Anchored in Christ.
New reflections weekly.
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An open letter to a young father
The picture above is me at around 22. My oldest about 3. Tomorrow that little boy will be celebrating the first birthday of his own son, at the tender age of 21.
Tonight as we settle down for Sunday dinner and celebrate this precious life on the eve of that momentous birthday, I want that little boy…now a young man to know these things.
First-I love you. Your momma will always love you. Even when life does not turn out the way I hoped it would for you. I love you.
Second-God loves you.
Let’s focus on that second one, and some of the things I wish people had said to me when I was a 19 year old unwed mother. When life had not turned out the way I planned. When my outward sin was on display for the whole world to see. When everyone had well-meaning advice, but others had a slew of opinions.
God loves you.
You are unique. I didn’t know this as a young mom. My concept of love was caught up in the world’s definition, and it told me people loved you if you did what they expected. Never took a few wrong turns. Did everything the “right” way. So I poured all that into you, desperate to make things right.
And…I messed up many times.
Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young. 1 Timothy 4:12
God loves you. The road has turned a little. He will make it “right.” And along the way, son, you are going to make some mistakes.
Because you don’t have it figured out now. This parenting gig is a ball game like no other. And it seems all the coaches have a different playbook. Thing is…parenting does not come with a one-size-sits-all instruction manual. No matter what age you may be. I am 40, honey…and I ain’t got it right. I need Him. Everyday. Not the opinions of the world.
Society will ALWAYS have an opinion of the perfect parent. And I am here to tell you, to break it to you-you will NEVER measure up. The perfect parent is not the one who never struggles. The perfect parent is not the one who has never had to decide between diapers and gas at the end of the month. The perfect parent is not the one who never had a child fall out of the bed, get a bruise in the center of their forehead when they were learning to walk, or whose first word was a four-letter word that was NOT “milk.”
The “perfect” parent is you. The parent God picked for your child.
You will doubt your ability to do the right thing. To guide your son. To provide for him. Daily.
You will be judged for your choices as a parent. Daily.
You will make mistakes. Guaranteed.
If you ever doubt this, just call yo momma. I’ll sort it all out for you. Because I’ve done all those things and then some.
Know this: You are his “perfect” parent. Who is loved by God. Always. Loved by your momma. Always.
Love, Your “Imperfect” Momma, but the “Perfect” Momma for You!
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Would you go where they go?
“How do they do it? How do they find each other? It’s like they can sniff out each other’s chaos?”
These are sometimes the conversations I have about the relationships amongst growing kids. How they decide to form attachments to those who are either good or bad for them. How we, as adults, do the same.
“Well, the same way adults do, right? We are all looking for someone who knows and will still accept our brand of crazy.”
That person who will see past our faults. That person we can trust. Who won’t gossip about us once we leave the room. Who will share in our struggles, and not share them with others. Be there when we are down. Pick us up when we need it.
Who when times are tough. We can’t see anyway out of the darkness. Have been acting a little crazy, distant, needy, whatever…won’t get sick of us, and leave.
Don’t we all want that?
“Don’t call me Naomi,” she responded. Instead, call me Mara, for the Almighty has made life bitter for me; the Lord has caused me to suffer, and sent tragedy upon me.” Ruth 1:20, 21 (NLT, paraphrase).
Naomi, a name given that meant “pleasant,” had suffered a life that during this time had been anything but. She had left Bethlehem. Moved to Moab with her husband. Had two sons, and then lost all three. Naomi had in turn become bitter (which is the meaning of the name “Mara”). Angry at God for seemingly allowing her grief. She fully expected to spend the rest of her life alone and abandoned in the same way she felt God had left her.
She did not expect anyone to remain loyal during her suffering. To endure her grief and pain alongside her.
But Ruth replied, “Don’t ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord punish me severely if I allow anything but death to separate us (Ruth 1:16-17).
To vow to stay with her until the end.
Ruth was no longer obligated to do so. No longer married to Naomi’s son. Technically no longer part of Naomi’s family.
But to Ruth, she was making a commitment that had nothing to do with blood or technicalities. Ruth saw Naomi. In pain. Grieving. And made a commitment to endure life with her. Through the ups and downs.
Through the suffering.
She made a sacrifice to love Naomi as her own family.
She didn’t weigh what was in it for her first. She didn’t do it in order to get anything out of it. Both women returned to Bethlehem with nothing. She simply saw another suffering soul; a woman in need of a friend. Someone needing to be accepted with all her “crazy.” She decided to love her and stand by her until the end.
Isn’t that what we all want?
The person we tell to leave, but just won’t. They stay and ride out our junk with us. Even if they have their own junk. Even if they don’t have to. Even if they have somewhere to be. Any time you call. Every time you fall.
We all want someone who will stay when we get a little sideways, and yes, a little “crazy.”
Do you have that person? Are you that person for someone?
Maybe today you can be just a little softer in the midst of someone’s struggle. Stay a while in someone’s “crazy” moment. Sit in someone’s chaos, instead of growing bitter. Help someone navigate their return home, so they don’t have to alone.
Even if you have somewhere to be. Even if you have your own junk. Even if you don’t have to.
Just go wherever they go for a while.
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Early morning wake-up calls
I have had the honor the last two nights of being woken up at 4 in the morning. Tossing and turning. Praying for God to just help me get back to sleep. Nope. Just laying there instead.
On both of these mornings I lay, wrestling with a number of thoughts racing through my head. I shed a few tears. Said a few prayers.
It wasn’t until the second night, when I rolled over and looked at the clock, I realized…I needed to open His Word to see what He may be saying to me.
All night long I search for you; in the morning I earnestly seek for God. Isaiah 26:8
And it was that. That verse.
I spend much time with Him at night, but as the morning comes, very little.
Because if I’m being honest I start my day with my phone. Then coffee. Dripping all while I check my phone. Then as I get ready, I might read that 5 minute devotional on what else, my phone, before life starts.
I rarely earnestly seek Him as I wake. I rarely earnestly seek His solutions, instead relying often on my own strength, and what goes on here on earth to dictate my actions, thoughts and feelings. I am praying for God to just put me back to sleep, when what He really desired was just some time with me.
Don’t ignore your 4am wake-up calls. It’s usually your Father knocking and telling you to get up and spend a little time with Him. He has something important to share!
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God of the harvest
Waiting on the Lord versus just giving up. Listening to Him to tell me when to move versus acting based on my desires, wishes, or what I think God should do. That is how my prayer life and spiritual walk has been for some time now. Praying for light, but seeing darkness among the very crops for which I have been praying. Continuing to plant seeds here, but looking around to see them wither and die in front of me.
There is a lot in the passage from Isaiah 30:18-26 that mirrors my walk right now. As I sat reflecting on its truth today, I could not help but see the parallels.
He will be gracious if you ask for help. He will surely respond to the sound of your cries (v 19).
And cried I have. I have laid before my prayer wall with tear-stained cheeks wondering why God keeps directing me to do something. To pray continuously. To keep trying. To not give up. And feeling like those pleas are not reaching past the ceiling. Feeling like, maybe, that still small voice I heard was my own, and not His at all. That maybe this is not His will at all, but all my own. I have pleaded for Him to “just fix it.” I have said the same prayer over and over and over until I have wanted to rip it off the wall and burn it.
I’ve called for help.
I’ve heard nothing.
Though the Lord gave you adversity for food and suffering for drink, he will still be with you to teach you (v 20).
I’ve called for help and heard nothing. And I have certainly suffered for what He has asked of me. Hurt. Rejection. Criticism. Discouragement and disappointment. When the way I was told to go doesn’t produce the fruit I hoped I would find.
Your own ears will hear him. Right behind you he will say, “This is the way you should go.” (v 21).
This is the hardest part-surrender.
To a will that is not my own. To an outcome I may not like. One I definitely cannot see. It’s teaching me to wait. And I’m not so patient. It’s teaching me to relinquish control, when I want to be in control. It’s teaching me to trust, but I have soul deep trust issues.
It’s teaching me that it’s not my will, but His. And isn’t His always better than mine?
I may cry now. I may feel I am surrounded by darkness, and that all these seeds of grain I am planting are returning void and useless.
But there is a purpose in this season of suffering. While God harvests this turmoil here in my heart, he is also harvesting a victory:
Then the Lord will bless you with rain at planting time. There will be wonderful harvests and plenty of pastureland for your livestock (v 23).
There will be reward for your obedience, January.
There will be fruit for your labor, January.
Don’t give up now. Your tears mean something. They are not wasted. Your prayers are heard. Your work is not in vain.
I’ll show you if you just let me do the work.
If you just trust me with this harvest, I’ll show you what those tear-stained prayers will produce.
Don’t give up. Keep praying. Keep listening. God will do the rest.
He is the God of the harvest.
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Well done….
“Well, what do I get if I do that?”
An all too common question. What is in it for me for serving, for being kind, for meeting an expectation?
People are often surprised that I do not demand that my kids do more chores. Earn their keep around the house. Perform duties in order to be rewarded for all the “good” things they have done.
It’s true. I don’t.
I have tried every chore system known to man (or rather, woman). Every velcro stripping, popsicle pulling, washi tape plastering, dry erase board posting, laundry clip moving chore chart on Pinterest. None has lasted. The only thing successful among any of these charts has been the endless arguments over who gets to do what chore, and earn what silly reward.
So, we keep it simple. We teach them how to respect each other and the adults in the home. That in our home (and beyond), we are spoken to with words of love, and no one leaves a room when asked to stay, without completing a discussion on an issue. We praise the daughter who decided to check the mail without having to be asked. Or the boy who fed the dog, just because he wanted to help. We deposit these moments into our memory banks so that the next time that girl wants an impromptu play date, we can remind her of her frequent mail drops and quickly say “yes.” Or that boy runs out of ice cream, and we remind him of the time he did not let the dog go hungry, and we can quickly hop into the vehicle for a quick trip for fro-yo.
But there are also times we remind them that in life we are not rewarded for doing good. We won’t always be praised. Sometimes we will be unappreciated or overlooked. However, we do our little bit of good anyway. We keep giving to others anyway. Even if you don’t get in return. Even if people don’t do anything to earn it. Even if people aren’t even very good.
Why?
Grace. Undeserved favor. We don’t deserve it. We have no reason to expect it. Yet it is freely given.
Just as God gave us.
For God saved us and called us to live a holy life. He did this, not because we deserved it, but because that was his plan. 2 Timothy 1:9
We didn’t earn it. We don’t deserve it. He gave it anyway. He loves us anyway. Even if the world may not notice our good efforts. Even if we may be overlooked, and it may take a lifetime. Grace was our reward. And, one day, all of those small efforts we make will be acknowledged when He looks at us and says “Well done. Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
Now, that’s one fine reward. Don’t ya think?
About Me
I am January! Wife, mother, meemaw, pastor, and mental health provider who makes it through the day with my coffee, my journal, and my God. A simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic. All focused on Him.
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Grace 'n Grounds 