Josi was born and raised a Nebraska girl. As many Cornhuskers did, she grew up on a farm in a small rural community. Upon graduating from Nebraska Wesleyan University, she exchanged cornfields for skyscrapers as she moved to Chicago to attend Moody Theological Seminary. It was there that she met her beloved husband, Ryan, and grew an interest in cross-cultural relationships as she worked with international students, refugee families, and lived in one of the most diverse communities in the country. She and her husband moved to Ghana, West Africa in September 2013 with a team of friends to start a business. In 2015 they resettled back in Chicago to welcome their first child and are currently working with World Relief, helping resettle refugees and find them employment. You're invited to keep in step with them as they live, work, learn and play: http://www.ryanandjosi.blogspot.com/
We were told she wouldn’t make it to 20 weeks. When she made it, we were told she wouldn’t survive to full-term. When she survived to full-term, we were told she wouldn’t grow properly. When she grew, she thrived. When she thrived, she confused the doctors. RELATED: Keep Fighting, Little Miracle When the doctors tried to find the science to explain away her defeating all the odds, I had the answers. God. Prayers. Miracles. At 10 weeks when I found out about her condition, I prayed. I gathered my prayer warriors, and we prayed. Ultrasound after ultrasound, the technician was...
Bring on the bottled scent of fresh mountain breeze and seaside lavender. I’ll happily perform the swivel dance of transferring clothes from washer to dryer. I’ll hang those darlings with delicate personalities to gently air dry. I don’t mind the doing part. I’ll do laundry ’til the cows come home. It’s the folding part that I tend to put off. The cows have come home and gone to pasture several times, and that basket of clothes is most likely still sitting there developing more wrinkles than a baby bulldog. And don’t even get me started on ironing. Let’s just say...
Mama friend, I know you’re exhausted. It feels like you have nothing left to give. You know you need to take a moment for yourself, but you don’t know how. I know it all feels endless—like it will never be any different. I know you long for a week, a day, or an hour to yourself but take this moment. Put the baby in the playpen. Tell the kids to play in their room. Sit down somewhere away from the dirty dishes in the sink and the pile of laundry that has been waiting to be folded for days. Step...
This ring is not much to look at now—a well-worn piece of turquoise costume jewelry, its cheap metal revealing its quality and insignificant cost. But the value of this ring, “The Ring,” rivals that of my diamond and gold wedding band. It is priceless. For me, it is tangible proof of how an unseen God orchestrates events, circumstances, and people to remind me that miracles do happen and that He hears me—especially when I hurt. I happened upon this precious keepsake at a time in my life when things seemed to be falling apart and when I was feeling very sorry...
Seated at the sunroom breakfast table, mouth full of Special K, I glance out the row of windows. A flutter of gray-blue against white paint catches my eye. I quickly swallow. “Y’all, a bird just went inside the bluebird house!” We all stand in a row, mimicking the windows. Yes, my sleepy morning eyes did not deceive me. Tail feathers were protruding from the circular opening. At last, a bird had found its way to this little white house with a tin roof nailed to a lone holly tree in the middle of our backyard. This was not the original...
My eyes flickered open and closed as I lay on the hospital bed after giving birth to my first-born daughter. The lights above me felt painfully bright as my eyes fought hard to stay open. Almost lifeless, my body had never felt so depleted. I lay there in a dream-like state, watching the world go on in full speed around me while inside I was in slow motion, barely strong enough to partake in the joy of bringing my daughter into the world. I had given every last ounce of myself, poured out until there was not much left. My...
Last night, I sat on my youngest son’s messy bed, and we said our nightly prayers. I went first, as usual, and he followed up, mentioning a little boy’s name I had never heard. When he was finished with his prayer, I asked who so-and-so was. He explained that he is a student in his fourth-grade classroom, who was crying during class yesterday morning. The teacher asked him what was wrong, and he said his dog had died. My heart immediately went out to the young little boy, facing what may be his first major heartbreak in life. I was...
My sweet girl had a nightmare last week and now won’t be in her room for bedtime alone. She won’t fall asleep without me sitting in her room with her, and if she wakes up at night, she screams until we come to her. It’s hard because as much as I don’t want to see her scared, I know I can’t stay with her in her room forever. As I sat there wearily last night waiting for her to fall asleep, I suddenly realized that I wished I could be more like her. She knew that as long as I was...
Let me start by saying, this post is for me. I wanted to wrap our first child in bubble wrap. Or at least make sure all potential dangers were kept at a manageable, safe distance away. No kissing his baby face to prevent the spread of germs. No taking him out into public until I felt confident and capable. Along with typical new parenting what-ifs, postpartum anxiety stole my peace and clouded my judgment and took me to my doctor to get clinical help. Yet, three more babies later, I’m starting to believe those early years weren’t really the most fragile. I’ve...
When I was 16 years old, I had a pastor pull me aside after church one night. He proceeded to tell me I was a good girl, but I needed to stop cutting my hair. I loved serving Jesus and always tried to do the right thing, so you can imagine how the words of this pastor devasted me. I remembered every unkind word spoken about me—they came flooding back into my memory that night. It was then I realized no matter how hard I strived to do what was right, it would never be enough. I accepted the identity...
By Josi Seibert 
by Megan Kewaza 
by Christen McKey 
by Tynea Lewis 
by Amber Palmer 
