A Gift for Mom! 🤍

As a small-town girl headed off to college, I thought if I stayed out of the “bad” parts of the big city and hung out with the “right” crowd I would be safe—safe from all the scary stuff I’d seen on the news (because social media wasn’t a thing yet back then).

I told myself if I followed those rules nothing bad would happen to me. And I lived by that theory. In some ways, that was smart. And in some ways, it was naïve. Naïve because there is evil in this world—evil that doesn’t limit itself to the “bad” parts of town and the “wrong” crowds.

I know now there are people hurting bad enough to hurt people everywhere, and that bad things can happen anywhere—at sporting events, in shopping malls, movie theaters, churches, our homes, and in our schools. We can’t hide from the bad.

In one week, I got a text from my dad shortly after I woke up that said, “Need quick prayers for Mom. The man they have been searching for was just at our house. He wanted to use the phone. She got the doors locked and called 9-1-1.”

The fugitive who had been the subject of a manhunt near my hometown knocked on my parent’s door on Monday and mom answered. He was caught a short time later.

And on Friday, my cousin’s daughter lost her life in the Santa Fe school shooting.

Although Rhonda and I haven’t seen each other since we were kids, we have kept in touch over the years and my heart was broken for her on Friday evening when I learned what had happened.

We were both especially fond of our Grandma.

Grandma was the coolest, and that’s an understatement. She was strong, a little sassy, and extremely kind-hearted. She was a great influence on my life, and I can’t speak for Rhonda, but I think hers too. Grandma was also the something of scrapbooking aficionado. And when she passed away, I was given most of her scrapbooks, some dating back to the 40’s.

A wise friend once said, “When you don’t know what to do, do something.” So, on Friday night when I didn’t know what to do, I looked through Grandma’s albums. I flipped through the pages searching for a picture of Grandma with Kim to send to Rhonda.

There were pictures of Rhonda, pictures of her kids, vacation Bible school fliers, and various clippings. One clipping caught my eye. It wasn’t what I was looking for, but it drew me in. I never did find what I was looking for. But in that moment, staring at that clipping with tears filling my eyes, I felt as though Grandma was asking me to send it to Rhonda instead.

The clipping read: “DO NOT FEAR what may happen tomorrow; the same loving Father who cares for you today, will care for you tomorrow and every day. Either He will shield you from suffering or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginings.” – St. Francis De Sales

We can’t hide from the bad. But we can trust in Him to see us through.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Terryn Drieling

Hi, I’m Terryn. I grew up on a northeast Nebraska feed yard with pens of cattle as my backyard. That is where I fell in love with raising beef. So when I went off to college in the big city of Lincoln, NE, I focused my studies on animal science with the goal of one day becoming a feed yard manager. While at UNL, I met my never-boring, always-entertaining husband, Tom. After earning my degree in 2006, we moved out to the panhandle of Nebraska where I took a job on the animal health crew of a local feed yard. I loved my job, so-much-so that I would argue I never actually worked. Over the course of the next seven years Tom and I got married, welcomed a son and then a daughter, and I continued loving my life and career. I couldn’t imagine life any other way. But then, God inserted a plot twist into our story… And I am so thankful for His twist because I am happier than I have ever been doing things I never thought I’d do. I am now a stay-at-home-mom and ranch wife who has discovered new passions in photography and writing/blogging. Faith Family & Beef where I share my story as a wife, mother, lover of coffee, and dabbler in photography – living in the Nebraska Sandhills, bringing up a family while raising beef. Follow along on my blog: https://www.faithfamilyandbeef.com/

I Lost My Sight at 16—But It Wasn’t the End of My Vision

In: Faith
Cross and sunset

After my father shot me, I lay in a hospital bed, and my world went dark. I was 16 years old. The injury left me completely blind. But the darkness didn’t stop there. As my physical sight disappeared, something else came into focus—the depth of the wounds I had carried long before that moment, wounds I had never fully allowed myself to see. For years, I had learned how to survive without asking too many questions. I had learned how to minimize what hurt, how to explain things away, how to keep moving forward as if everything were normal. But...

Keep Reading

Ministry Starts Inside Your Own Four Walls

In: Faith
Family around a table

When people hear the word ministry, they often think of missionaries, or the pastor who preaches every Sunday, but in our home, ministry belongs to all of us—even our kids. Growing up, I didn’t think of myself as a ministry kid. Still, when my dad packed our old Astro for the summer and we all piled in, we were on mission. Each kid had a part to play in my dad’s evangelical magic shows (yes, you read that right!). My brother would juggle, my older sister sang, my middle sister flipped the projector slides that shone pictures of Jesus on...

Keep Reading

These Holy Small Things

In: Faith, Motherhood
Children sewing at machine

My 8-year-old-daughter has recently taken up sewing, to my simultaneous delight and chagrin. My delight because I too love sewing; my chagrin because her enthusiasm often outpaces my own abilities, namely, in the undertaking of tedious projects with no pattern. Take, for example, the cloth doll diaper we designed and stitched up together. Granted, the design was fairly basic to draw up and scale. But the minuscule nature of the work, both for my hands and head, was enough to throw me into existential questioning. It was one of those moments when you wonder how the sum of your life...

Keep Reading

Life Lessons from My Grown Children

In: Faith, Motherhood
Two women's hands on teacups

“Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time.” – Rabindranath Tagore Quietly communing with a loved one in the early morning hours is such an intimate and precious time. Visiting with one’s grown child when all is dark and still is one of life’s purest pleasures. I remember the conversation clearly. My daughter’s husband, small children, and father were all asleep as we whispered and chatted. She and I are both fidgeters by nature, unable to be still for long. This inner restlessness must be remedied, and we are compelled by biology to...

Keep Reading

My Prayer Is Simple Now: “I Believe; Help My Unbelief.”

In: Faith
Woman sitting by water

I have spent most of my life in faith. Not circling it or analyzing it from a distance, but inside it—learning its language before I even realized I was learning it, shaping myself around it in ways that felt as natural as breathing. I was raised in Christian Science, which is a very particular kind of faith. It’s not really about “believing” in the way most people think. It’s about understanding. Aligning your thoughts with what is ultimately true about God and reality. If you can understand rightly, you can be well. If you can see clearly, healing follows. So...

Keep Reading

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living
Woman looking over canyon

Insecurity is something we all carry in one form or another. For me, it has probably always looked confident and outgoing from the outside. But internally, it can feel heavy, complicated, and exhausting at times. And when someone comes along whose behavior reinforces those insecurities, it amplifies what was already there. There was someone I had hoped to genuinely connect with, but it was clear from the start that the feeling wasn’t mutual. From the beginning, their wall was up. No matter how kind I tried to be or how carefully I showed up, it never came down. Their distance...

Keep Reading

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

In: Faith
Woman walking in field with hand in wheat

Hannah knew what it was like to feel forgotten. She often clutched her empty womb and thought Surely the Lord has forgotten me.  She knew the bitter sting of feeling isolated and alone. She knew the anguish of praying day after day after day and seeing no fruit, not even a bud, from her faithfulness. Hannah knew what it was like to feel like the weight of the world was on her, and her hope may have dwindled. Even those around her did not offer encouragement. Quite the opposite—they did their best to sow seeds of discouragement. Yet Hannah pressed...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

In: Faith
Woman with folded hands looking up

There have been many times over the years when I’ve heard others share stories of how the Lord spoke to them or gave them a sign. Seashells scattered along a sandy beach, numbered to represent how many children they would have. A quiet walk in the park, followed by a clear sense that another little one was coming. What a blessing, I think, when I hear and read their stories. I often wonder how much more faith they must have than I do—to know with such certainty that what they heard was truly God speaking. I listen, I smile, and...

Keep Reading