parenting

Why this mom won’t pray for a special miracle.

by Melissa Holderby on Nov 6, 2021 category faith, parenting, special needs

We are blog friends, right? I mean, I assume you can handle my sloppy truth without judging me too harshly. Well, this mom won’t pray for a special miracle for her special needs son. There, I said (typed) it. And I want to tell you why.

I sat down to write this specific message to you several times without success. Every time I mustered the energy to log into my writing platform, I just sat and stared at the blank screen. The little cursor blinking patiently in the upper left-hand corner of the glowing display. How can I possibly articulate my feelings around this without dishonoring Someone? Or sending the wrong message? Or even worse – discouraging another hurting soul? And every time I slammed my laptop shut and walked away. A little less confident and a little more discouraged.

I’ll be completely honest, friends. I haven’t published anything since April for a multitude of reasons. The world seems to have swallowed me whole and left little of my creative spark behind. Most days I am focused on what has to get done in the next 24 hours at home and at work while still eeking out a little bit of parenting. My friendships, my marriage and my writing have all taken a back seat. Again. Can anyone else out there relate? Can a tired girl get an “amen”?

A special miracle.

Even deeper than my surface reasons, I have been too afraid to share this with you. What in the world could I possibly have to say to meaningfully encourage another warrior momma walking a similar direction? The issues of parenting a special needs child seem too big, and my words feel too small. I certainly don’t want to sprinkle hollow platitudes or insult anyone else’s story with shallow ideas. The Thankful Bee was created to be a balm. A beacon. A place where we can all exhale for a minute, recharge, and then take another step forward. I am truthfully unsure if I can be that for anyone (or even for myself) at the moment.

Still, I feel compelled to share my journey forward on this particular path. In other words, why this mom won’t pray for a special miracle – complete and immediate healing for her son’s cerebral palsy. My story isn’t clean or tidy. In fact, it is fraught with hard feelings and tough questions. Questions like, “Why does God allow babies to be born with disabilities?” Or, “Why does God grant some people’s petitions for miraculous healing and not others?” Does He favor one person over another? And why, despite my professed strong faith, does this mom not pray for that specific, special miracle?

Let’s question the basics.

Before we delve into the deeper points, let’s answer some foundational questions together. I had to really look long and hard at these to determine whether I was stuck in the muck of a basic tenet or not.

Question #1: Do I genuinely believe God is powerful enough to heal my son?

Answer: Yes, His omnipotence has never been in doubt with me. All I have to do is look back at Luke’s adoption story to see His might. God moved impossible mountains to bring Luke, his birth mom and our family together. Nobody and nothing will ever convince me otherwise. Period. I 100% firmly believe that God is capable of erasing Luke’s cerebral palsy with one breath, one word or one nod.

Question #2: Do I honestly believe that God is good/kind/loving enough to heal my son?

Answer: I soul searched on this question a bit longer than the first one. Probably because of those really tough questions I mentioned earlier. And while this blog post isn’t meant to resolve why bad things happen to good people, I still have to answer “YES”. Yes, I can look back on the five decades of my life and point to specific evidence of God’s loving faithfulness. How His goodness rose up out of the ashes of my own past desperate situations to bring beauty and joy and peace. So, yes, I have to answer that God is good and His love for Luke and our family is rock solid.

[Case in point? Have you read about our sparrow yet? It will always be one of my favorite stories. You can find it HERE.]

Let’s really rip it open.

I have examined my heart, and I believe that God is powerful enough. And I believe He is good/kind/loving enough. So, why won’t this mom pray for a special miracle to obliterate her son’s cerebral palsy? Warning, this is where my feelings get extra sloppy. Do I believe that our family is WORTHY of a miracle?

Certainly there are thousands of mothers out there asking God right now to heal their babies of worse things – terminal cancer, pervasive drug addiction, crippling depression, etc. I mean, Luke’s cerebral palsy isn’t a progressive condition, and it isn’t fatal. His muscles are weak and floppy, and his balance and coordination are impaired. He is not yet able to communicate verbally, and he sometimes drools if not prompted to swallow or wipe his mouth. His gross motor, fine motor and expressive speech skills are all impacted, but his intelligence is unaffected. He’s a super smart little cookie trapped in an uncooperative body. He can only improve from here, and he continues to encourage us with his steady progress.

(Side Note Public Service Announcement – Don’t assume that because he isn’t talking that he isn’t taking in every word you say. He also isn’t hearing impaired. So when you ask invasive questions about his special needs or about his adoption story, HE CAN HEAR AND UNDERSTAND YOU. Seriously, I assume you are well intentioned people, but don’t make me punch you. Because I will. Like a protective mama bear with a slightly floppy, drooly, non-verbal cub. )

Moving on…

So, do I not pray for that miracle because I think other families are ahead of us in line at heaven’s “Miracles Answered Here” window? Yep, that’s probably it if I am being completely truthful with myself (and you). We are managing, and Luke is doing well despite his struggles. Feel free to bless someone else with our miracle, Lord. We don’t want to ask for more than we deserve. We want whatever YOU want.

God’s unexpected response.

Anyway, in talking to God about my reasons for not specifically asking Him for a miracle for Luke, He answered me in a very unexpected way with just two words. “SLOW BURN”. Huh? Those weren’t exactly the words I needed. And then it was like the veil was lifted from my eyes and I saw a teeny peek of what God sees. God has already given this mom a special miracle for her boy. Luke’s miracle healing isn’t a quick flash. Instead, it is a SLOW BURN.

Luke’s miracle is the team of talented therapists and teachers who build into him (and me) every week at school. Slow burn.

His miracle is a team of gifted outpatient therapists and other medical specialists who genuinely care enough about him (and me) to patiently listen to my concerns and include me in the decision making. Slow burn.

Our miracle is having two jobs that allow us to accommodate our schedules around Luke’s needs. And some seriously amazing health insurance. And access to resources other families don’t automatically have. Slow burn.

His miracle is the unexpected financial help that has come our way to pay for expensive equipment and services not covered by that awesome insurance. Grants, special funds, and one heck of a financial advocate through our local Children’s Hospital. For example, did you know that a local coffee shop’s baristas covered a portion of Luke’s $7,000 speech generating device by donating all of their customer tips for a full month? Who even does that?! Slow burn.

And Luke’s miracle is a community of friends and family who fiercely love him and support us as his parents. They pray for us, and make us laugh and pick up the slack when we need help. Slow burn.

Your own slow burn.

Where are YOU on this road? Even if you are not raising a child with special needs, I bet there is something in your life for which you’d love a little divine intervention. What is that prayer you leave unspoken? Do you doubt God’s power to grant it? Do you question His goodness around that thing? Or, like me, do you consider your ask unworthy in light of other peoples’ “bigger” problems?

Regardless, my advice to you is to still boldly ask Him. Be that mom and pray for the special miracle. And then look for your own slow burns. God is always listening, and He always answers (“yes”, “no” or “wait”). Sometimes just not in the way we expect.

Until next time, friends!

Melissa

Online resources.

Want to learn more about cerebral palsy? Here are some helpful links.

Cerebral Palsy Foundation https://www.yourcpf.org/

Center For Disease Control and Prevention – Cerebral Palsy https://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/cp/index.html

Secrets for a successful summer with your college student.

by Melissa Holderby on Apr 24, 2021 category parenting

The day has finally come! I am super excited about this week. Why? Because this week we move our eldest son – our “middle kid” – home from college for the summer. Our willful man-child who has had free rein to live his 19-year-old life any way HE sees fit while away at school. What could possibly go wrong? So, on the eve of moving our dear son out of his dorm room and back home with us for a few months, here are our secrets for a successful summer with your college student.

An open message to our college student

As you pack up your dorm room after freshman year on campus, let’s review some expectations before you arrive home for the summer. The following list may be refined as needed. We are all learning and growing, and your input is certainly welcome. Please know that may not change anything, but we respect your opinion nevertheless. We have just found that these are some secrets for ALL of us to enjoy a successful summer without wanting to strangle each other in the process.

What we expect from YOU for a successful summer

Our house and our car

#1. Driving our car is your sometimes privilege and not your right. You don’t pay for maintenance or insurance. Therefore, it’s not your car. You may ask permission ahead of time to borrow our car, which will most likely be granted assuming you always bring the car back in the same shape it left. Driving the car to/from work on a semi-regular basis will require some contribution toward gas on your part. Please refer to #8 below about “adulting”.

#2. You are expected to keep your hall bathroom picked up, and will need to physically clean the sink/toilet/shower on a regular basis. Our house is not the guys’ dorm, so don’t be overtly disgusting. (Fart jokes are still acceptable and encouraged.)

#3. Grass mowing. We know you love it!

#4. Left overs with no name are fair game. But if it doesn’t spell C-O-L-I-N, then please do N-O-T eat it.

Our feelings

#5. As a matter of courtesy to us, we ask that you let us know where you are going and when you expect to be home. This is not the same as asking our permission like in high school. This is more a matter of respectful consideration between people who live together. Please see #9 below if you plan to be out late.

#6. There will be ZERO smoking, vaping, underage drinking or street drug use on our property. This includes inside either of our cars. No alcohol. No pot / weed / reefer / devil’s lettuce / jazz cabbage / buddha / fry daddy / geek / crack back / juice joints. Or any other of the hundreds of slang terms in use these days. Absolutely NO exceptions. Oh, and we don’t care if it is already legal in several states and “everybody does it”. We’re not “everybody”. This is a non-negotiable, zero tolerance policy. It also applies to any of your guests.

#7. If your girlfriend comes to town to visit, we would love to meet her. And she will NOT be sleeping in your room. Neither will you be sharing a couch, air mattress, futon or tent for sleeping under our roof. What you choose to do on your own time at school is not our business. (Although you know we have strong opinions about it.) That being said what happens in our house, yard, driveway and cars IS our business.

But that is only one side of the secrets to a successful summer with a college student. Read on!

What you can expect from US for a successful summer

The house

#8. The laundry, shower and general groceries are openly available to you for free. If the water bill and grocery bill get out of hand, then you will be asked to contribute. That’s just real life. Welcome to “adulting”.

#9. We will not micromanage what time you get up in the morning or what time you go to bed at night. AS LONG AS YOUR LATE HOURS don’t keep or wake anyone else up. We’re much older than you and we have early mornings.

Your feelings

#10. We will not treat you like a free live-in babysitter. There may be times we will ask you ahead of time to watch your little brother, and we will treat you with respect and consideration when we do so.

#11. We will always do our best to listen and not just blurt out judgments. (That last part was for your dad.) We will offer you advice when you ask for it. Perhaps we will also offer you our unsolicited opinion if you appear to be careening headlong into trouble with blinders on due to your limited life experience thus far. We fully understand and accept that you are not obligated to take our advice. Regardless, we will always be in your corner.

#12. We will have fun, relax and recharge. We will give you room to breathe and just be a “kid”. Let’s cook thick steaks on the grill. Or the cheapest of hotdogs if you prefer. And let’s make s’mores over the firepit for dessert. We will go to the beach (assuming no emergencies again this year). There will be game nights and golf outings and movies. And last but not least, we will hug you as often as you allow it.

Love, Mom and Dad

A closing word to our readers

These secrets for a successful summer are not necessarily meant to be prescriptive for your own family. The above list represents OUR value system and what works for OUR family. Feel free to use what resonates with you and disregard what doesn’t. We have just found that clear and concise expectations up front spare us a lot of misunderstanding and hurt feelings later. And, yes, we literally put the above list in writing and shared it with our son BEFORE he and all of his stuff moved back home. Parenting clearly and consistently has worked for us with our kids over the past two decades – whether our “babies” are two years old or almost twenty years old.

Here’s to a successful summer with your own college student! It’s a unique stage of parenting, and can be one of your favorites. The next school year will be here before we know it, and we’ll be waving good-bye once again.

Searching for hope in our weary world.

by Melissa Holderby on Nov 28, 2020 category Christmas, special needs

I have to be up front and honest with you. I haven’t posted to the blog in a few weeks because I haven’t been able to write a single word. Not one syllable. A small part of that problem has been simply logistics with my own lack of time and energy. The bigger part, however, has been what some may call “writer’s block”. I would actually call it “fear that I don’t have adequate words”. You see, I started the thankful bee primarily to serve as a light of encouragement to folks who may be troubled or hurting. And frankly, I haven’t even been able to encourage MYSELF lately, let alone any of you. I certainly haven’t felt qualified to guide anyone searching for hope in our weary world. So, I haven’t written any new content recently. Until tonight.

The Christmas Cave

Tonight I took all three of my kids to The Christmas Cave, about two hours south-east from where we live. It’s basically a self-guided holiday light display in the passageways of an underground white gravel mine. Inside among the twinkling lights, decorated Christmas trees and pillar candles lining the dimly-lit path are displays depicting the historical moments surrounding the birth of Jesus. For added atmosphere, holiday music is featured in each area.

I wanted to be in the moment. Truly, I did. I wanted to just relax and enjoy being out with all three of my kids for the first time in a long time. Except I honestly wasn’t. Nope. I was preoccupied with everything weighing on my heart. Burdens with names like “overdue” and “overdrawn”. “Quarantine.” “Loneliness.” “Worry.” Maybe you are acquainted with some of those as well?

Squeaks and stumbles.

One thing that really struck me hard as I walked along that underground gravel path was Luke‘s reaction to the whole event. He was so excited to see the Christmas decorations, and the way the candlelight on the cave walls made our shadows look ten feet tall. He was especially drawn to the lights on the garlands and trees. Luke desperately wanted to walk the entire mile-long trail, his little chilly hand in mine, pointing and making happy squeaks. It didn’t matter to him that his pace was so slow or that he stumbled in the gravel. No, he just wanted to absorb it all.

But Luke’s squeaks and his stumbles were a painful reminder to me that my sweet, joyful little boy has extra struggles to overcome. In the dark of that underground mine, I felt a familiar sting in my heart. A hurt that despite all of my education as a pediatric therapist, and all of the professional help we consume each week, and all of the resources I have scoured, Luke still struggles. He still doesn’t speak. And he still doesn’t walk without falling. And the road ahead of him seems to stretch way out over the horizon where I can’t clearly see his triumphant victory over his earthly disability.

What a contrast Luke and I were in that moment in the Christmas Cave. Each of us putting one foot in front of another to travel along our candle-lit journey. Except my heart was troubled, and his heart was wide with wonder.

And then it happened.

O, Holy Night.

We got to the part of the path with the scene depicting immediately after Jesus’ birth. I pointed out baby Jesus to my baby Luke, and do you know what Luke did? He waved. My squeaking, stumbling little boy waved to baby Jesus.

Oh my goodness, friends, I got tears in my eyes. And I became acutely aware of the familiar Christmas carol playing in the cave at this moment – O, Holy Night. The line from the song goes, “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices…”

Yes! I am weary, inside and out! All those burdens I called by name earlier? They recently have worn me clear down to a nub. In fact, the entire planet seems to be searching for hope in our weary world.

A thrill of hope.

God broke through my darkness in that underground gravel mine. And He wants to break through your darkness, too. So, He sent a baby. A very special baby. Born in a cave. So that I can have hope. YOU can have hope. The entire weary world can have hope.

And even with the loud clamoring of all of my worries, I can rejoice. I can celebrate my future even if I can’t see it. Luke’s future. The world’s future.

So you see, tonight I got a tender reminder. Tonight I was gently reminded that I don’t have to know all the answers. I don’t have to have a battle plan thoroughly worked out. And I don’t even have to have adequate words. And neither do you. Perhaps all we need is one small flicker of LIGHT in our darkness. One tiny speck of HOPE in our corner.

Keep walking along your gravel path, friend. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, even on the days you feel weary. If all you can manage is a squeak and a stumble, do it. We aren’t meant to languish, searching for hope in our weary world. HOPE has come. HOPE is here.

I am not strong – I am beautifully broken.

by Melissa Holderby on Sep 19, 2020 category faith, parenting, special needs

I want to say it right up front. I am not strong – I am beautifully broken. And today I want to address a well-meaning comment that my husband and I hear from time to time. The comment is usually some variation of the following.

“You are so strong to adopt a child…”

“To have waited all those years (four and a half HARD years)…”

“And to have trusted the process…”

“Or to have kept going when friends and family told you to quit…”

“You are so much stronger than us…”

“We could never adopt…

“Raise a child with trauma in his or her past…”

“Freely accept a birth mother as part of our family…”

Let’s all PAUSE right here. Allan and I are not strong – we are beautifully broken. Beautifully broken human beings just like everybody else. But Allan and I firmly believe something that you may or may not already realize. Read on!

we are NOT superheroes

It is a falsehood that adoptive families have some sort of special powers. We are not superheroes. Far from it! We are not capable of saving anyone else (let alone ourselves). On the contrary, most days we are a family just like yours trying to raise good kids, pay our debts and keep our household from physically falling apart.

Truth? Other days feel crushingly difficult. Watching our children struggle through trauma they did not create. Navigating a mine field of hard feelings and hard decisions. More internal self-accusations that we are lousy parents and even worse spouses. We are not strong – we are beautifully broken.

On those days, our souls are weary. Sometimes our own tears release the built-up tension. Sometimes we exchange unnecessarily sharp words with those we profess to love the most. Other times we retreat to our she-shed / man-cave to spend angry hours by ourselves in total silence rather than respectfully or lovingly interact with each other. The prospect of navigating our lives without failing our children, growing apart from our spouse, or being swallowed whole by frustration or worry is overwhelming. But we keep going.

How? Not by our own human strength. By faith.

Don’t miss it – keep moving forward.

I love this quote from author and pastor, Rick Warren’s blog. “Where do you get the resilience to keep going? Faith. It’s believing God could do something any moment that could change the direction of your life, and you don’t want to miss it, so you keep moving forward.“

We believe it, so we keep moving forward. For example, pressing through the choppy waters of parenting (because God sees us). Holding fast to the belief that God prepares a good path ahead of each of our children (because God loves them). Handling our marriage with love and respect (because God leads us). Attending one more therapy appointment, one more counseling session or one more conference. Whispering one more prayer for guidance and strength. Keeping our eyes on God. Keeping the faith.

The plan includes YOU, too.

God sees us, knows us, leads and loves us. In addition, he made a grand plan to save us because He knows we cannot possibly save ourselves. That plan includes YOU as well, if you allow Him. Some days He grants us faith to take the next blind step, to make the next trusting move. Other days He calls us to faith to let go of our fierce grip and surrender to Him. To accept help from our amazing human support system who loves our broken little bunch. And honestly, some days it is just enough faith to tie a knot in the end of our dangling rope and hang on for dear life. Regardless of future outcomes, we feel blessed and at peace. No matter what.

A very faithful ancient Bible guy (Paul, who authored most of the New Testament) wrote, “We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. Hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9)

So, you see, we receive misguided comments. Allan and I are not strong – we are beautifully broken human beings just like everybody else. The truth is that we lean into our faith and the faith of our friends and family who love us. We don’t have superhuman strength. But God undoubtedly does, and we are following Him wherever the journey may lead.

Adapted from original 11/6/17 Facebook post. Featured image by Lars_Nissen_Photoart from Pixabay

How to trust God with our children during scary times.

by Melissa Holderby on Sep 5, 2020 category parenting

How do we trust God with our children during scary times? Excellent question, and one I specifically wrestled with just recently. Full disclosure and complete transparency? I’ve been struggling with my anxiety around that the past few months. A lot. Maybe you can relate?

I have had a resurgence of panic attacks this summer that has NOT been helped by the non-stop negative headlines. You know the legitimate news turned sensational click bait I’m talking about, right? COVID. Racial injustice. Protesters, extremists and agitators. Trump/Pence. Biden/Harris. Record-breaking unemployment. Murder hornets. Mystery seed packets. Hurricanes. Wildfires. Deceased superheroes (RIP Black Panther). And the cherry on top? Ellen DeGeneres is reportedly not at all nice. Lord, save us. (Literally.)

If you allow the headlines to direct you, the world feels extra dangerous right now. I am not particularly worried about my OWN well-being. No, my anxiety peaks regarding my CHILDREN’S well-being. How was I supposed to feel positively about sending my two oldest “babies” off to their respective colleges last month? And how was I supposed to relax about sending my youngest baby (an actual toddler) off to the sitter while I ventured back to uncertain work with other peoples’ “babies” in our public school system?

How do we trust God with our precious children during scary times?

Panic attacks aren’t at all fun.

Anxiety is a funny thing. I can logically tell you all the educated reasons I have to move forward in relative confidence. But anxiety doesn’t deal with logic. It capitalizes on the emotions and the body follows right behind. My brain perceives heightened danger (however exaggerated from reality that may be) and my body physically reacts with all the adrenaline goodies – racing heart beat, rapid and shallow breathing, butterflies in my stomach. And the inexplicable powerful urge to get somewhere “safe”. It’s not fun.

If you haven’t lived what I’m talking about, it is hard to understand. I get that. If you HAVE walked this same path, then you know the past several months have generated lots of potential ammunition.

During one particularly tough anxious episode this summer, I went somewhere quiet with my Bible and poured over some words I knew would shed some perspective. But my typical “go-to” verses left me feeling unsatisfied this time. My increased anxiety seemed to be winning out over the pages and familiar words I held in my hands.

Let’s look at it together, shall we?

Psalm 46:10

Here is a popular verse. “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10) We commonly quote those words during times of anxiousness or fear. In fact, we like those words so much, we’ve put them on t-shirts, coffee mugs and mass produced wall art. No harm in that. Still, I tried to find solace in the familiar words this time. I believe those words are true, so why weren’t they comforting me?

More disclosure and transparency? Okay, I will be completely honest with you although you may judge me. Psalm 46:10 was not comforting me because it felt passive. My anxious heart read it more like, “Just relax, Melissa. (Be still.) And remember that I am the good and kind Shepherd.” You know. The “turn the other cheek” guy.

This image was stuck in my head…

Truth be told, I am letting my “babies” go into a world full of unrest and upheaval. I didn’t necessarily want them protected by the good and kind, “turn the other cheek” guy. Our world is at war with itself physically and spiritually. If I had to let my children go into the fray, I wanted my children accompanied by a fierce warrior with a flaming sword.

Show me something different.

So, I did the only thing I knew to do at that point. I was honest with God. Yep. I talked openly with my Creator and told Him I was struggling. And I asked Him to show me something different. To open my anxious mom heart to whatever He wanted me to see this time around. Tell me, Lord. How do we trust God (You) with our children during scary times?

And He did tell me. He gave me a fresh perspective. And it was kick-butt awesome.

I forgot the other side of Him.

God reminded me that I forgot and discounted the other side of Him. Sure, He is good and kind. Yes, He is loving and gentle and full of mercy. The “turn the other cheek” guy, if you will.

AND He is also the rest of Psalm 46, too. Let’s unpack that together by looking at two translations.

The Message (MSG)

God is a safe place to hide,
ready to help when we need him.
We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom,

(Yep, I feel like that’s where I am standing some days. The cliff edge of doom.)

courageous in sea storm and earthquake,
Before the rush and roar of oceans,
the tremors that shift mountains.

Jacob-wrestling God fights for us,
God-of-Angel-Armies protects us.

(My children have a whole supernatural army surrounding them!)

^4-6River fountains splash joy, cooling God’s city,
    this sacred haunt of the Most High.
God lives here, the streets are safe,
    God at your service from crack of dawn.
Godless nations rant and rave, kings and kingdoms threaten,
    but Earth does anything He says.

(There sure is plenty of ranting and raving on the news and on social media these days. And my brain certainly perceives those as threatening. Yet, Earth must bend to God’s voice. So, the loudest voices figuratively screaming in my face don’t have the ultimate authority in the end? I’ll say an AMEN to that.)

^8-10Attention, all! See the marvels of God!
    He plants flowers and trees all over the earth,
Bans war from pole to pole,
    breaks all the weapons across his knee.
“Step out of the traffic! Take a long,
    loving look at me, your High God,
    above politics, above everything.”

(The November 2020 US Presidential Election isn’t my focus? Not COVID? Not even BLM??? I’m allowed – even encouraged – to step away from the noise and the chaos to abide with God for a long, loving while? I’ll say a grateful AMEN to that, too!)

New International Version (NIV)

God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
²Therefore we will not fear though the earth should change,

(So much global change in 2020. And frankly, I’m weary from it all. Anyone else with me on that?)

though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;
³though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble with its tumult.

⁴There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy habitation of the Most High.
⁵God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved;
    God will help her right early.
⁶The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
    he utters his voice, the earth melts.

(I certainly sense rage and tottering. But, God simply opens His mouth and the whole earth MELTS?! Now THAT is power. THAT’s the guy I want with my children.)

⁷The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuge.

⁸Come, behold the works of the Lord,
    how he has wrought desolations in the earth.
⁹He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
    he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear,
    he burns the chariots with fire!
¹⁰“Be still, and know that I am God.
    I am exalted among the nations,
    I am exalted in the earth!”

Now THIS image was stuck in my head. And it was much better for this momma’s anxious heart.

A mighty King

How do we trust God with our children during scary times? By remembering that our loving, gentle and merciful Father is also a mighty King. He has the final say over creation and over the nations. He can melt the earth by simply uttering a single breath. Entire armies of angel warriors are at his command. The “weapons” we so fear harming our children? He breaks them over His knee like play things.

I am not guaranteed a lengthy, pain-free life. And neither are my children. We will undoubtedly experience hurt and hardship. Possibly even tragedy. I cannot ultimately shield my “babies” from that. But, no matter what befalls us, I have assurances that the fierce, earth-melting, weapon-breaking King is in our corner. As is the loving, gentle and merciful Father. And in the End, He has the last word. His Word says so. And I choose to trust Him.

Letting go of our children in an uncertain world.

by Melissa Holderby on Aug 29, 2020 category parenting

My babies all left my nest earlier this month. All three of them. Hannah headed back to college out-of-state to start her senior year. Colin moved into the dormitory at an in-state university to start his freshman year. And toddler Luke returned to his sitter twice a week on the days both Allan and I are working. Don’t get me wrong – I am excited for my children to each get back to a little bit more “normalcy” after months and months of COVID-restricted living. But let’s be honest with each other, okay? Letting go of our children in an uncertain world is dang hard.

Coping with band-aids, fabric softener and disinfecting spray.

As parents, we have our own ways of coping with our babies taking a step away from us. Away from the safety and security of the nests we have worked so hard to feather for them. For example, as Colin prepared to move out of our house and into a residence hall on campus in August, I found myself increasingly “taking care” of him in a future sense.

First, I made a health kit for my college-bound baby with a digital thermometer, small bandages, antiseptic ointment, various over-the-counter medications, and a photocopy of our family’s heath insurance and prescription cards. Because Doctor Mom won’t be there in person. Secondly, I washed all of his new bed sheets AND treated them to an extra softening sheet during the dryer cycle. Because I see how my son keeps his room at home, and realistically those sheets will probably not get laundered again until Thanksgiving Break. Ew. And lastly, I bundled together a canister of disinfecting wipes, a bottle of hand sanitizer, a can of disinfecting spray (kills 99% of common household bacteria and viruses when used properly), and a handful of triple-layer cotton face masks. Because we are in the middle of a pandemic.

Coping with golf and weird light bulbs.

On the other hand, Allan coped with the imminent departure of our oldest son in different ways. For example, Allan suddenly started including Colin in his weekly golf outings with his friends. That may not seem like a big deal, but golf is Allan’s therapeutic escape from the responsibilities of work and home. His sacred space, if you will. I don’t know if Colin realized it or not, but the fact that Allan welcomed him into that space spoke volumes.

Oh, and Allan bought weird light bulbs. Yes, you read that correctly. Weird light bulbs. “Smart” wifi light bulbs that turn on and off with voiced commands. But that’s not all. Nope. These light bulbs can also dim by a desired percentage, change tone from cool to warm, and emit any color on the spectrum. Blue. Red. Yellow. Green. Purple. Orange. Pink. Aquamarine. And more! Seriously.

I have no idea WHY anyone would need or want such light bulbs. Frankly, I have a love-hate relationship with them. Half the time they don’t respond to my voice, and the other half they do the opposite of what I said. (Must be teenage light bulbs.) Maybe Allan subconsciously needed to have some control over an aspect of our home in response to relinquishing control when Colin moves out from underneath our roof? Or maybe he just geeked out on the technology? Regardless, we all handle letting go of our children in an uncertain world differently, I suppose.

How do YOU cope?

What about you? How do YOU cope with change, loss and letting go? Drop a comment below and share your insights.

Next week we will explore a facet of God’s identity that is comforting when letting go of our children in an uncertain world. It may not be what you expect. Until then, hang in there, moms and dads. Whether you are dropping your baby off at the sitter, or kindergarten or college, be encouraged.

Oh, and kids… remember a few things for us parents as you leave our nests, okay?

#1 – Call or text us on occasion. You are never too busy to check in with your mom or dad.

#2 – Wash your hands. A lot. And then wash them again. Even if you seldom wash your sheets.

#3 – Learn from your inevitable mistakes. Wisdom is better than intelligence.

#4 – Make bold choices. Be a protector. Stand up for what is right as Jesus defines it, even if that minority position costs you.

#5 – Remember who (and Whose) you are.

Yes, letting go of our children in an uncertain world is dang hard. But we trust you. We know you are capable. And we are excited for your futures. We will leave the (blue / red / yellow / green / purple / orange / pink / aquamarine) light on for you at home.

Featured image by giselaatje from Pixabay.

Wondering if our best was good enough.

by Melissa Holderby on May 23, 2020 category parenting

Do you ever have a flicker of doubt when you finish something important? I often do! Welcome to the “Fine Tooth Comb” Club. Maybe it is the perfectionists in us. Or the “control enthusiasts“. We just can’t help ourselves. We instinctually pause and reflect one last time, wondering if our best was good enough. Did we miss a detail somewhere? Did we leave a question unanswered? An opportunity ignored? If you are wired this way, too, then you know what I’m talking about. It can be exhausting.

The end of one school year.

Many of us collectively share in a mutual experience this month – the end of another school year. And what an end to a school year it has been! I work in a large, suburban public school district as a pediatric physical therapist. I author and manage the thankful bee as a creative outlet. Honestly when I walked into my therapy space to start the week of March 9th, I had little realization that it would be my last “on site” work week of the school year. Seven days later (in Ohio anyway), we would all remotely learn and teach from home. Crazy!

So, as the 2019-2020 school year comes to a close, I cannot help but over-analyze. I know many of my colleagues are doing the same thing. In other words, we are wondering if our best was professionally good enough.

The end of many school years.

All this wondering doesn’t just impact my professional life. Gracious, no. I often fall victim to over-thinking my personal life, too. You see, I wasn’t just working to provide quality, individualized remote therapeutic opportunities for my students. I was also distantly supervising (he says nagging) my oldest son through his last nine weeks of high school at home. He graduates virtually thanks to the wonders of technology on May 31st from our living room. Hallelujah!

Amidst the modified graduations and cancelled celebrations, we parents (moms in particular) often wonder, “Was our best good enough?” Have we well prepared our babies for their young adult lives? We watched them take their first steps, and we have walked miles next to them since then. But have we done enough to prepare them for this next HUGE step most likely further away from us? And in the middle of a pandemic no less?!? I don’t recall pandemic parenting being part of the handbook we got at the hospital when each of our babies were born. If someone out there has a copy with that chapter included, I’d appreciate a scan.

As another side note, during this time Colin actually won an award from his Senior class. Of 300+ students, my kid won the “WORST CASE OF SENIORITIS” award. He received a trophy with his name on it, hand delivered to our front door by his high school’s principal. Yes, the struggle has been very real here in the Holderby House, friends.

The end of my life.

Someday in the future after I have taken my last breath in this life, I fully expect to stand before my Creator and account for my choices. And our enemy will have a long list of all the times my human best wasn’t good enough. Heck, that list will probably unroll down the table, onto the floor and out the door on the other side of the room. All the times that my pride came before humility. Times that my selfishness took priority over generosity. Moments when I left an opportunity to glorify God untouched out of fear or shame. And you know what? Everything on that long, long list will be factually accurate.

Yet, despite all of my transgressions, I don’t wonder if my flawed best here in this life was good enough. I don’t need to. Jesus says I’m good enough as is. He has paid my fine and served my sentence. In other words, through His perfect best He clears my imperfections from the record with love, grace and forgiveness. He stands in the gaps where I fall short as a human being.

I have to stop wondering.

So, that promise is really what I am leaning into as this school year comes to a close. I gave my earthly best as a therapist to my students in these challenging last several weeks of remote teaching and learning. And despite my shortcomings, I have to stop wondering. I have to let my students go and trust that Jesus will stand in the gaps where I fell short as a healer.

Same regarding my graduating son. I gave everything I humanly had as a mother to him over the past eighteen years. And still, I messed up. Frankly, some days I royally messed up. But I have to stop wondering. I have to let my boy go and trust that Jesus will stand in the gaps where I fell short as a mom.

Where do you need to stop wondering if your best is good enough? Your job? Your marriage? Maybe your children? What about your relationship with your Creator?

God wants us to drop those worries at His feet. Right now, today, in this very moment because Jesus is standing in our gaps. So, well done, teachers and therapists. Well done, parents. Our best is good enough because He is good enough. And we are loved beyond measure. We don’t need to wonder.

Header image by McElspeth from Pixabay.

Tips for hugging a prickly cactus.

by Melissa Holderby on Apr 25, 2020 category marriage, parenting

It is a gross understatement to say I feel a bit prickly these days. I am about finished with our collective self-isolation experiment. How about you? Oh, I am playing by the rules. As a team player I am committed to doing whatever I can to keep front line workers, our most vulnerable populations and my own family safe. I am rocking this face covering and these disinfectant wipes like a beast. But let’s be real with each other, okay? We are together in close quarters, and frankly I can be a jerk sometimes. So can my husband and kids. We may need some tips for hugging a prickly cactus.

Tips for hugging a prickly cactus? What in the world? Yeah, you read that right. C – A – C – T – U – S. Cactus (plural “cacti” or “cactuses”). A member of the plant family Cactaceae of the order Caryophyllales. CACTUS.

My family of cacti.

There is actually a family of prickly cacti living in our house right now. A family of five bristly, brambly cacti with bothersome thorns. They stay disguised as my husband and children (and myself) most of the time. Until they don’t. And that’s when it gets tricky.

For example, my husband looks like my husband on the outside. But just underneath the surface is a saguro full of pointy spines. And my daughter? She’s a flowering Christmas cactus – usually only home to bloom over winter break from college. Except now she is underneath our roof for the foreseeable future and she is quite nettlesome about that fact. My eldest son? He is a prickly pear cactus – taking over our pantry and our refrigerator like an invasive species.

Hold on. Sweet little Luke (our toddler) can’t possibly be part of this analogy, right? Oh, yes. He is quickly approaching his 2nd birthday at the end of May and he qualifies for this metaphor as well. I am renaming his “terrible twos” as the “thorny twos”.

To continue our story, Luke is an indoor cactus, needing less light and less space than all the others. He is smaller in size, making him the perfect little quarantine houseplant. And I am a member of the Sempervivum group of succulent plants (also commonly known as “hen and chicks”), because I lay awake at night and fret over my brood. Am I doing enough to nurture my children (chicks)? Are my “babies” okay? Physically? And emotionally? What about spiritually? Am I going to still like them and their father when this is all over? No wonder I rarely sleep a solid night through.

Three tips for hugging YOUR prickly cactus.

The problem is that we are all called to love our enemies (and even our own beloved family members can feel like “enemies” sometimes these days). But how in the world are we supposed to do that? Well, God gave us some specific instructions. In other words, He left us some tips for hugging a prickly cactus or two.

Let’s look at the sixth chapter of the book of Luke. “To you who are ready for the truth, I say this: Love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the energies of prayer for that person.” (Luke 6:27-28, MSG) I see three specific tips in there for hugging a prickly cactus.

#1. Love your cactus.

I know, I know. That one seems too obvious. I mean we LOVE our families even in the moments we don’t exactly LIKE them, right? But let’s use “love” as a verb – an action word. Not just a feeling. Now, how do we LOVE our family members? Well, it is extremely helpful to understand how each one best receives love. (Hint: it is also how each one primarily shows love to other people.)

To help give that some context, I really like Gary Chapman’s “Five Love Languages”. You (and your cacti) can take an online quiz HERE to help you narrow it down. For instance, I know that my eldest son’s primary love language is Quality Time. My daughter’s is Gifts. My husband’s and our toddler’s is both Physical Touch, and mine is Verbal Affirmation.

So here is how I might play this on any given day. I may invite Colin to go get ice cream with me (socially distanced through a drive thru, of course). I may include some small thing from the grocery store that Hannah can have all to herself (e.g., a bag of her favorite candy). Luke may get extra cuddles, and I may even give my husband a long hug or kiss as we pass each other in the kitchen on separate household missions. And if any of them really want to show ME love in my best language, then they may compliment dinner, or tell me specifically what they appreciate about me, or leave me an encouraging note. Voilà. Love for every cactus in the house!

#2. Let your cactus bring out the best in you.

Every interaction we have with any other human being at any given moment in time involves a choice on our parts. We all have to make split-second decisions how we are going to react to other people. As I see it, we all have two main choices that could be summed up as kindness or malice. Grace or condemnation. Peace or chaos.

Oh, I hear you, friends. THAT is easier said than done when the other person is being a turd and doesn’t deserve our kindness/grace/peace. How many times have we held our sharp tongues at work when clients or co-workers are unreasonable bordering on ridiculous? Or we refrain from leaving too caustic a comment on an acquaintance’s social media post who clearly is supporting the “wrong” (aka not OUR) side of an issue? It’s exhausting some days, isn’t it?

I don’t know about YOU, but I frequently don’t choose to show the same level of restraint when reacting to my own family members – the people I love more than anyone else on the planet. I am often tired and overwhelmed these days. So I automatically default to some of my own family’s jerkiness with malice, condemnation or chaos. That certainly is NOT my best.

But, we can choose to do better. Every interaction is a fresh opportunity to get it right. Deep breath. Count to ten. Respond with kindness, grace and peace. (Yes, even if they don’t “deserve” it.) And when we get it wrong? Ask for forgiveness and try again.

#3 Pray for your cactus.

When your cactus gives you a hard time, pray for your cactus. Lord, please protect my annoying husband by keeping me from smothering his smug, snoring face with a pillow in the middle of the night. Amen. No, no. Try something like this (or whatever fits your situation) instead, “Lord, please help me view my husband’s efforts to protect our family as a gift. Grant him restful sleep for renewed strength to do his job from home to help provide for our family. Give him comfort when his own anxiousness causes him to stumble. Amen.”

Easy to do when our feelings have been trampled on? Nope. Priceless in preserving the fabric of our families? Yep.

a BONUS for you

Want to know a little bonus trick I use sometimes? When I am so hurt or angry that I would rather run a marathon (the WORST!) than do anything kind for the person who hurt me, I picture Jesus standing behind the offensive party. Just over their left or right shoulder. I literally focus my eyes on Him when I choose grace over condemnation. I look past my offender and look at Him instead when I choose to show love to my (at that moment) unlovable family member. In other words, hugging my prickly cactus of a husband/son/daughter is often easier when I visualize hugging Jesus at the same time.

Hang in there, friends. Take heart, be encouraged, and hug your prickly cacti. They just might bloom in this harsh landscape.

Featured image by Ulrike Leone from Pixabay

Kayaking upstream against rough rapids.

by Melissa Holderby on Apr 18, 2020 category parenting, special needs

This week’s blog post covers something I never enjoy doing. Kayaking upstream against rough rapids. I rank it right up there with running. Yuck!

I prefer to save running for bear attacks or a zombie apocalypse. The only Marathons I need are gas stations, and I don’t ever want to run for office. Likewise, I avoid running a fever (especially these days). Ironically, I have been known to run my mouth, but that can still be done sitting down. I even went so far as to blog about a toxic form of running related to Bernie Sanders and COVID-19 prior to our global shutdown.

Truth be told, I did participate in a community 5K once. I thought it would set a good example for my kids, and they participated, too. I wogged across the finish line, chugged a bottle of water and promptly puked in the bushes. Never heard of “wogging”? It’s a lazy combination of walking and jogging (“w-” + “-ogging”). Still NOT running. STILL got the same medal as every actual runner.

All that being said, I do have lots of experience with the other strenuous physical activity I mentioned. I am a world-class champion at kayaking upstream against rough rapids. My guess is that YOU are, too, and you don’t even realize it.

our current river adventure

First of all, I need to explain some background information so you know what I mean by “kayaking upstream against rough rapids”. Our youngest son – Luke – was diagnosed with something called “hypotonia” (essentially floppy muscles) as an infant in 2018, and then more specifically cerebral palsy as a toddler in July 2019. He had his first seizure activity a couple of months later in October 2019.

As you may already know, I don’t necessarily believe in coincidences. Luke being THE EXACT CHILD adoptively placed with our family after a very long wait punctuated with heartbreak is no exception. For example, all of his medical issues are already very familiar to me professionally because of my career as a pediatric physical therapist. I actually developed a half-day workshop in 2016 for other therapists related to managing the very thing.

Even more personally, our daughter (now in college) was diagnosed with significant delays involving her speech at a very young age. Allan and I walked that long road with her, and had front row seats to witness her victories. She is thriving, and there is no reason that Luke won’t as well.

solid kayaks and strong paddles

It would seem our family is perfectly suited to help Luke move forward. So, where is the conflict, you ask? I can most easily explain it using a picture from a family kayaking adventure.

The kayak and paddle represent our resources available to navigate the river (aka life’s adventure). In the case of Luke’s diagnoses, my kayak sits pretty well in the water considering my professional and personal experiences to date. Clearly my photo reflects a time BEFORE Luke’s medical issues. The water is calm. I’m grinning. And I don’t have my usual tight grip on the paddle.

Are we all still together? Great! Let’s churn the waters a bit.

smooth waters become rough rapids

What happens to the river bed when we add an unexpected challenge like our Luke’s medical diagnoses (or remotely schooling our children while still attempting to work from home, prolonged social distancing, cancelled event plans, empty grocery shelves, etc)? Now our relatively smooth waters have become more bumpy. Then let’s add in the threat of an emergency like our Luke’s seizures (or too few ventilators, a sudden job loss, loved one in ICU, etc). Now we are shooting some pretty rough rapids! Oh, and sometimes we even need to paddle UPSTREAM in the midst of it all because we left behind important things like our Luke’s developmental milestones, and we need to go back and get them. Feel like you’ve also left something important behind as you are swept down the COVID-19 River, too? I bet you do.

So now we are all kayaking upstream against rough rapids. Thankfully, our family has been blessed with several resources specific to our cerebral palsy journey. For example, Allan’s job provides amazing health insurance (and he still has his job). Luke has a skilled medical team (and his four therapists are doing their best to accommodate Luke’s needs remotely during this crazy shutdown – we appreciate them even more now than we did before!). We also have a supportive network of friends and family willing to help (currently via Zoom and Google Hangouts). Sweetest of all, we have received hugs (virtual), prayers, encouraging words, and hot coconut almond mochas – nonfat, no-whip (delivered with a masked face and a gloved hand).

limited endurance

As you can see, our kayak and paddle are solid. However, the journey can still be draining. No one on the planet has limitless endurance. We have sat with Luke in countless waiting rooms. I have spent hours filling out medical grant applications to help cover the costs of Luke’s therapies and equipment not paid by our insurance. A needlessly complicated billing system at our local children’s hospital does not help either. I have a clinical doctorate degree in an allied health field and almost thirty years of experience in the medical business, and I still often can’t make heads or tails of those monthly statements! Some days I feel tired and spent, and other days I feel pressed and crushed.

I especially don’t like watching Luke struggle even though I know personally and preach professionally that growth comes from challenge. It stings sometimes to see much younger kids soar past Luke with far less physical effort. I hate that my son so obviously wants to walk and talk, but his little body doesn’t yet cooperate. On those days, I also feel sad and a little defeated.

we are all paddling

What river are YOU paddling today? Are your waters calm or rough? Are you currently enjoying a leisurely float downstream in your own bubble of isolation, or are you fiercely battling very real rapids? Do you see people on the river bank (social media)? Make sure you focus your attention on the ones cheering for you, and NOT the ones unintentionally throwing rocks your direction. In other words, just because someone posted it, doesn’t mean you have to consume it.

Not currently coping with Pinterest-perfect spring craft projects your friend suggested to entertain your littles? Or Instagram-worthy photos of that DIY project your friend just posted that make your own yard / deck / home interior feel even shabbier? Then give yourself permission to ignore those for now. I currently consider myself #winning if I am showered, dressed in something other than pajamas, and no one is the house is arguing. Score!

And for goodness sake, if someone offers to paddle your kayak for you for a while, LET THEM. For example, accept their help picking up your groceries. Let them cut your grass this time. Be specific in how they can pray for you if they offer. Use their gift of time and talent to catch your breath and rest your weary muscles. And then get back in there and keep paddling upstream. We CAN do this. See you at the finish line!

Featured image by Paul Brennan from Pixabay.

Always keep a nice tight grip on the reins.

by Melissa Holderby on Feb 23, 2020 category parenting, special needs

Ever been on horse back? I’ve been fortunate enough to sit in the saddle several times in my life. My preferred horse will always be the one with a gentle, cooperative nature. The one who nonchalantly allows me to lead our journey and doesn’t mind me keeping a nice, tight grip on the reins. No free-spirited steeds for me, thank you. If I am sitting on top of a thousand pound animal, I’d like to know that he is willing to let me “drive”.

I actually had a frightening experience during riding lessons as a kid. My horse unexpectedly laid down in the dirt and tried to roll over with me on his back. My foot was caught in the stirrup and I couldn’t break free. Needless to say, I was terrified. My instructor wisely made me “get back in the saddle”, but that afternoon I vowed to never lose control of a riding situation again. Oh, not because I vowed to become a more skilled rider. But because I promised myself I would only ride easy-going horses in the future.

life is an unpredictable, half-ton animal

So, the reins in this story are figurative and the horse is really a metaphor for life. Life is an unpredictable half-ton animal, and we are strapped on top for the duration of the ride. What if my life tries to roll over and I am somehow trapped in the “stirrup”? What if I can’t control the situation and I get crushed underneath? Sounds dangerous. No, thank you! I’ll just keep a nice tight hold of these “life reins” here, and then I can enjoy the ride. No surprises. No harm. Even if I can’t see what’s coming up ahead, I have confidence in my ability to manage as long as I have a nice, tight grip on the reins.

But, today’s story didn’t take place in a horse barn. It took place in a medical waiting room.

controlling the Clydesdales

Our son, Luke (two months old at the time), had started weekly outpatient physical therapy appointments at the local children’s hospital. The diagnosis at that time was nothing super alarming. We caught it right away and intervened early so a smallish problem (think miniature pony) did not become a biggish problem (think Budweiser Clydesdale) down the road.

Anyway, I was 100% confident that Luke would overcome the obstacle. After all, I had a nice, tight grip on the “reins”. We had Luke with the right specialists, and I was skillfully following through at home between appointments. At the time, I was trying to figure out how much to be Luke’s attentive home therapist and how much to just be his snugly mom. To be completely honest, I am still trying to figure that out. One thing for certain, my husband nicknamed me the “Tummy Time Tyrant” with good reason.

pulling so hard on the reins is exhausting

Only problem? I was exhausted. Worn out. I was single-handedly orchestrating appointments with multiple therapists, applying for medical grants and staying on top of Luke’s needs at home. Add to that the drain of working full-time in a super stressful work environment, parenting two other “kids” with high school and college stressors, and trying to keep the house relatively clean. And let’s be honest – my standards for what passes as “clean” has shifted over the years. Somewhere in there, I just completely gave up on being an A+ wife. (A “C” is passing, right?!?!) And crap, when was the last time I actually cooked a meal that included fresh vegetables? Ugh – I cannot keep up!

a gentle reminder

While prayerfully lamenting about my mental fatigue that morning in the therapy waiting room, God gently reminded me that I had snatched the reins back from him. That He never intended for us to do life “single-handedly”. He lovingly reminded me of several times in my past when I had no choice but to rely on Him and the other people He placed in my path. Melissa, I always come through with the right resources for your best possible outcome, whatever that may be. How many times have I brought hope and healing out of your lowest moments (aka your piles of horse poop)?

Our adoption journey to Luke would be a classic example. Allan and I completely surrendered the reins to God in May of 2018 after unsuccessfully trying to control the outcome of that rocky path for over four years. We had to let go of the reins even further less than one week later when Luke was born (surprise!), and we dropped everything to go meet him with no advanced warning. There were no specific plans and no guarantees. We truly had little to no control atop this wild half-ton stallion running at break-neck speed into the unknown.

desperate times call for an expert

In that most desperate and seemingly impossible set of circumstances, we gave over complete control to Him. Truly, our only choice in those chaotic days was to surrender control completely and let God take the reins out of our weary grip. My prayers went something like this… “Please just show us the next step we need to take, one at a time. We want whatever You want. We trust You with the outcome, whatever that may turn out to be.”

I don’t know exactly when I decided to snatch back my nice, tight grip on the reins after we returned home with beautiful, little Luke in our arms. I don’t actually recall it happening. However, at some point I started my exhausting attempt to control every outcome again. If I had to guess, I’d say the reins crept back into my hands gradually, without me even noticing. Sneaky! It shocks me how easily I am tempted back into old habits and away from all the lessons I have learned.

I see you, fellow control enthusiasts

So, fellow control enthusiasts, let’s do this thing together. Right now. Ready?

Deep breath…

Exhale…

Now gently drop the reins.

That’s right. Just lay those sneaky suckers down and breathe.

You see, we all need gentle reminding now and then. In other words, reminders that God loves us enough to handle us with care when we trust Him with our fragile selves. But what if we get off course because of unexpected rocky terrain, loose footing or our own human miscalculations? No worries. He promises us Light to get us back onto the path. But what if we travel through thorny, painful places? And we inevitably WILL, right? He promises to be there with us in those moments, too. We just need to loosen our tight grip and embrace the unpredictable ride. We are never alone. He promises.

Image by Miriam Müller from Pixabay.