The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

A friend of mine shared some wonderful news with me about a month ago. It was such good, good news. The prayerfully sought kind of news. She was wholeheartedly excited and giddy. With an extra spring in her step. And I found myself getting red, flushed and hot. And although I smiled, my heart and mind were feeling something else.

Not envy.

Not jealousy.

Not unhappiness.

Not begrudging.

Confusion.

She had hope. 

I’m an oldest child, analytical in nature. Often, I pride myself in being pragmatic. I seek calculated risks. I love to adjudicate wise decisions. When things go wrong, I make a list of the decisions I made to somehow avoid them in the future.

For in this hope we were saved.

I like cause and effect.

If life has taught me anything, it is how little control we actually have in it. As someone who loves control, I cover my ears to the truth like a toddler, still focusing on the ‘important’ decisions at hand.

It is often an exhausting way to live. I often picture God introducing me as His child;”Be careful with this one, she loves deeply but she’ll calculate the risks of it. She protects herself. If you are rough she will will bite back. But oh how she loves. She really loves. She just struggles to hope..”

Now hope that is seen is not hope.

While I haven’t led a struggled life, I have struggled in life. I wait for the other shoe to drop. Just when I think I am doing life like everyone else, God gently, lovingly, shakes the rug out from underneath. And I flounder. Trying to calculate what went wrong, while God just lovingly whispers Just hope my child, just hope. 

For who hopes for what he sees?

I want to see, smell, touch, hear and taste….hope. But often it’s just A Hope. When the puzzle pieces do not fit, hope is trusting in the Maker of the puzzle, not in my ability to make the confusing puzzle pieces fit. Hope in the unseen. And often it baffles me.

But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Sometimes that beautiful waiting for hope looks likes good news from a friend. A friend who seems to have a skip in her step and song of hope in her heart. Letting the “What ifs” fade into the backdrop of a melody so beautiful it drowns out fear. 

And though confusing, you will learn to sing it with her.

Until you learn your own song of hope.

For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

-Romans 8:24-25-

*****

“It’s hard to recall what blew out the flame
It’s been dark here since you can remember
Talk it all through to find it a name
As days go on by without number

You’ve been here for a long long time

But hope has a way of turning its face to you
Just when you least expect it
You walk in a room, you look out a window
And something there leaves you breathless

You say to yourself
It’s been a while since I felt this
But it feels like it might be hope….”

It Might Be Hope‘  

by Sara Groves

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!

Kathy Jacobitz

Wife of 14 years to my college love. Mother of 4 kids ages 10, 9, 7, 5 and of {surprise!} twins due July 2015. A Lincoln native, now an unconventional prairie wife living deep in the heart of southeast Nebraska for over a decade. Always a city girl at heart. A former high school teacher, now a current homeschooling mom. Always in process. Thankful for Divine restoration and Grace. Runs solely on coffee. I blog over at The J Crew .{http://thejcrew-kj.blogspot.com/}

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

God Holds You As You Hold Everyone Else

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding toddler daughter on her hip, standing outside

She stands in the kitchen, hands trembling over the sink, tears she cannot let fall pressing behind her eyes. The world outside her window is quiet, but inside her heart there is a storm she cannot name. She is hurting, not because she does not love her life, but because somewhere along the way she forgot how to breathe inside it. Yet even in her pain, little voices call her name. Tiny hands tug at her shirt. Lunchboxes need packing, homework needs checking, hearts need holding. And so she wipes her face, forces a smile, and whispers a quiet prayer:...

Keep Reading

Yes, I Know Fear—but I Also Know Faith

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding child's hands in hospital bed

The night my daughter woke up screaming at 3 a.m., I knew something was wrong. Her cry wasn’t the half-asleep whimper of a bad dream. Instead, it was pain—raw and sharp. Within an hour, we were rushing to the emergency room, the world outside our headlights still wrapped in darkness. Tests, scans, questions, and then the words no parent ever wants to hear: “We’re transferring her to another hospital by ambulance. She needs surgery right away.” They said “torsion.” They said “tumor.” They said “appendix.” I nodded, because that’s what mothers do. We stay steady, even when our hearts are...

Keep Reading

10 Years after My Mother’s Death, Her Faith Still Guides Me

In: Faith, Grief
Woman praying

Growing up, I was a reluctant Catholic. My mother would drag us to church, and I’d go through the motions—fingers moving across rosary beads without really feeling the prayers. But she never stopped. Sunday Mass, daily prayers, devotions to the Blessed Mother. She was relentless in her faith, not because she was trying to force it on us, but because she genuinely believed we would need it someday. She was right. My mother died of stage 4 colon cancer in 2012. My brother and I watched her suffer, saw how her body betrayed her, watched as treatments failed. And here’s...

Keep Reading

Finding God in the Middle of Disbelief: A Mom’s Journey through Faith and Fear

In: Faith
Mother holding hand of young child, silhouette

“But the Lord is with me like a mighty warrior; so my persecutors will stumble and not triumph over me.” – Jeremiah 20:11 God, thank You for making sure my son is okay. Thank You for this just being paranoia. I believe in You. I believe in Your control. I believe. I believe. I believe. These words streamed through my head as my husband drove us downtown to visit our first specialist with our 4-month-old son, Maximus. Our pediatrician had written me off, but I could not ignore the feeling in my bones that something was wrong. Tiny, hard bumps...

Keep Reading

In Praise of Indebtedness: How Threads of Reciprocity Weave Us Together

In: Faith, Living
Woman holding casserole

It all started with tomatoes. After we moved, a neighbor invited us to pick from the abundance in her and her husband’s gardens. In return for a pile of tomatoes gathered from their raised beds, I left a plastic bag of homegrown pumpkins on their porch. Later that summer, our neighbor stopped by with a recycled container full of still more fruits. By the fall, we were sharing chili and cookies over dinner at our place. Threads of indebtedness were weaving us together. For most of my life, the idea of indebtedness has tasted rather repulsive on my tongue. The...

Keep Reading