You’ve heard of a garden of flowers, but what about a garden of books!
Just a heads up that Amazon currently has some of my paperback books on crazy sale prices!
Here are a few!
Bride of Pretense
Bride of Pretense
Regular$8.95, On sale for $4.38!
Regular Price 35.95. On sale for $13.28. The hardback is also on sale for only $15.01.
Rogue, Book 4 in the Tru Exceptions series
Normally $11.99. On sale for $6.99!
To celebrate you along with the new year, I have teamed up with Celebrate Lit to do a special giveaway! With it, you to have a chance to win 40+ of books or a $500 Amazon card to buy a ton of books yourself in Celebrate Lit’s Have a Fab New Year Multi-Author Giveaway!
https://promosimple.com/ps/
The event and giveaway is going on now through January 17.
No good deed goes unpunished. It’s a cliché that often, unfortunately proves true in daily life. Sometimes, when I finally get the guts to do something, events do not go in my favor, and I end up feeling battered when all I wanted to do was accomplish something good.
Last month, I saw on Facebook that a woman from my church was having a rough time to close out a really rough year. Her husband had been very ill with one thing after the other, the latest being cancer. She is his caregiver, and now was experiencing some debilitating health issues as well. I felt such compassion for her and wanted to do something to help.
Of course, doubt immediately chased the heels of my good intentions. What could I do that would be helpful? Maybe I could cook a meal. Hello, inferiority complex! My cooking isn’t good enough. I don’t know what they like. They probably wouldn’t like it even if I did cook something.
Nothing I could possibly do would ever be good enough.
I stopped myself, trying to shut out all of the excuses. I knew I could easily talk myself out of doing anything. After all, I have my own family to feed, I do all kinds of things for other people, I had already exceeded my “kind quota” for the month, and I had a mile-long to-do list begging for my attention. No one would think less of me if I didn’t take on this one.
But I would.
Is giving nothing better than giving my something, no matter how inadequate it is? If I tried, at least my friend would know I cared. But if I talked myself out of it, she’d never know that I cared and longed to help make things better for her.
“When it is an act of kindness, there should only ever be one answer to the question of ‘maybe I should.’ The answer should always be ‘Yes.’”
It is a line I wrote in a book that haunts me every day. When I wrote it in “A Cinderella Christmas,” I didn’t realize that it would change my own life so profoundly. Now, when a compliment to someone pauses on my lips or I wonder if maybe I should do something to try to help, the same doubts always creep in as my mind tries to talk me out of the work and the risk. Then that line comes back to me., leaving no room for my escape. I take a deep breath. Lord with your help… And I say yes.
I reached out and found out that several members of our church were already signed up to take meals, and I volunteered to be one of them. I decided to do myself a favor and do an easy meal that I make all the time for my family—chili and cornbread. My kids love it, so I hoped it would be good enough.
The day arrived, and I was optimistic. I let my kids choose a dessert, and I made chocolate chip cookies first. Those came out pretty well, with me managing to only get one batch a little too toasty. Then I prepared the chili. I usually make chili in my Instant Pot, which I love, but sometimes, if I brown the meat in the pot, a layer of chili sticks to the bottom and prevents it from reaching pressure. To play it safe, I browned the ground beef separately on the stove and then transferred it to the rest of the chili in the Instant Pot. I then made the corn bread. It’s a very easy family recipe that I do all the time, and my kids love it.
I put the cornbread in the oven and saw that I was running behind schedule. Then I looked at the Instant Pot. To my frustration, It was not reaching pressure. I called an immediate “abandon ship,” and hurriedly transferred the chili to a pot on the stove. Then I checked the cornbread. The picture should adequately describe my horror.
What had I done? The simple answer is that I had forgotten the baking powder. Obviously, a little baking powder goes a long way. And without it, cornbread goes nowhere at all. I make this recipe all the time and have never forgotten the baking powder—until the night I was making it for someone else.
Frantically, I grabbed a new bowl, which was difficult since I’d already managed to dirty every dish in the kitchen. I ran to the pantry to grab my ingredients again. My 8-year-old got in my way, and I snapped at him. (Cue guilt and an apology I gave later.) I mixed up more cornbread while I hollered for my husband to come help clean some of the dishes so I had something to work with. More cornbread in the over, texts sent telling my sweet friend that I was running late on dinner, and uncooperative chili finally simmering on the stove.
Long story short, my husband made the dinner delivery about thirty-five minutes late. The chili was cooked, the cornbread was fluffy, and the cookies weren’t burned. But I, myself, was left way over-cooked, not fluffy at all, and a completely burned-out mess!
No good deed…. And yet my friend knew I cared. My meager inadequacies were still better than nothing, and for me, that was good enough.
My kids made her get well cards that we took with dinner. They also knew what happened. They saw me struggle and keep going to serve someone else. And they’ll see me do it all over again the next time I feel led to help another person.
If I attempt an act of kindness and completely screw it up, ending up frazzled, embarrassed, and wondering if I never should have done it in the first place… you know what? The answer is still yes.
Merry Christmas! Welcome to my website, and thank you for stopping by and participating in this Christmas Round Robin! At each author’s blog post, you will find a question that can be answered by checking out the free Amazon preview of their book. Provide the answer at this google form.
Note: You must answer the questions for every author in the round -robin to be considered to win the $350 first place, $250 second place or $150 third place Amazon gift cards. [Note: these prizes are USD values. If you are not a U.S. resident, you will get a gift card from the Amazon store for your country; however, it will be valued at these USD amounts.) At the end of my post is a link to the next blog, who will provide a link to the next blog, etc., to the very end.
I’m so excited to tell you about Once Upon a Christmas! This book is a Contemporary Inspirational Romance, and is very personal to me. Though it is labeled as book 3 in The Christmas Card series, it is a complete standalone book. It does not share any of the same characters, and the books can be read in any order. Their similar style and inspirational message within a heart-warming Christmas romance make this series one of my most beloved and popular.
When her flight home is canceled a few days before Christmas, Moe Scott spontaneously agrees to spend a few hours sight-seeing with a fellow passenger. At the time, she doesn’t know the moments with James will change her life, nor does she know that before her plane takes off the next morning, she will turn around to find James gone.
With no way to contact him, Moe returns home only to lose everything before the new year dawns. Completely alone, jobless, and faced with the news that she is going blind, Moe remembers her time with James and clings to the idea of embracing the moments of vision she has left.
When opportunities for love and friendship come in the most unexpected places, Moe faces the choice of whether to continue to wait for the man who changed her life.
Will Moe and James ever find each other again? Can she learn to appreciate the beauty in each moment God provides and inspire those beyond her own darkness, even if she never sees again?
This book is one of the most meaningful books I have ever written, which is all the more fulfilling because the story is so personal to me. I include a lot of my own experiences and thoughts, fictionalized, of course! The author’s note in the book explains the story behind the story, revealing the truth in this unique work of fiction. The message of this book has been profound, and I’m continually amazed at how God has used it to touch others. I hope you end up being one of those touched, and I pray you are better for your “once” with me!
Now it’s time for you to check it out! Go to the book on Amazon by clicking on this link to Once Upon a Christmas.
In the Look Inside feature, find the answer to this question:
What does James order at dinner? When you find the answer, fill out this form and hop over to the next blog!
Thank you so much for visiting! The next author on the tour is Tori Higa, who is telling us all about her debut picture book, The Christmas Color. You can find it by clicking this link: Tori’s Scavenger Hunt.
Remember that you must answer every question from all 36 authors in this collection and the round-robin will end on December 13th at 11:59 PM EST!
I’ve spent the last few weeks putting in many hours on a big project. It required learning many new systems and multi-step problem solving that eventually got me to a new newsletter platform and a publishable short story to give away to newsletter subscribers. After many bumps against frustration, last week I was up late reading through everything one last time before pushing the publish button to let the various puzzle pieces go live on social media and release my short story to the world.
In that moment, after all the work I put in, I suddenly didn’t want to do it. Everything I’d done—all the newsletters, the story, and even the idea itself seemed utterly silly. After all, I’d literally written a story about a paper bag. Who would even like that?
So I prayed the same prayer I pray every time I release a book. Lord, this is yours. You gave me the idea. I did all this work for You. Please bless it and get it to those who need to read it. And if I fail, it’s all Yours anyway.
Now, I know that sounds kinda pretty, but what I actually do is shove it at God and tell Him, “Here it is. Take it!”
I wish I could say that prayer extinguished all of my worries, and my strong faith prevailed. Instead, with my heart ridiculously pounding, I hurriedly pressed the buttons to put everything live before I lost my nerve. There was no going back now. When I finally went to bed, I actually woke my sleeping husband to tell him that I’d finished and I was sure it was all going to be a big flop. See, some faith!
You see, this is not my first rodeo. I’ve flopped before. I’ve been extremely blessed with my writing, and I can’t say that any of my stories have been epic fails (knock on wood!). But there are many other instances in my life when I’ve earnestly believed that I was doing what God wanted me to do. But it didn’t work out at all. I can recite a long list of those moments. They seem to live perpetually in my head waiting to sashay through my mind whenever I get ready to jump. Hey, remember that time when… That didn’t work out at all… Maybe this one will be the same… But this time, everyone will know about it.
Sometimes I even remind God of those times. Hey, Lord, remember that time when I crashed and burned… so, why was that?
I’m not talking about the mistakes. I’m talking about the times when you think you’re doing the right thing, and it just doesn’t work out in any definition of success. You’ve prayed about something, the doors seem to be opening, you dare to dream that just maybe you’re about to step onto a magic carpet and be whisked up into success in both man’s and God’s eyes. But then, what actually happens is that you find you’re not on a magic carpet at all. Instead, it’s a plain, old, ugly rug. And it’s just been pulled out from under you, leaving you flat on your back with the wind knocked out of you.
Hey, God, remember that time when you pulled the rug out from under me? So… why was that?
Oh, how I’d love to know the why! Sometimes we get to see something good come out of our failures. I would say that most of the time we don’t. The why has to wait for heaven. And I suspect that when we finally get there, all those little whys won’t even matter. They’ll dissipate, becoming insignificant in the reality of all that we have ever longed for.
I could fail. I could do everything right and still fail. And I may never know the reason why. That sounds like a pretty lousy deal. Why even bother? Why did I push the buttons to publish? Why do I keep putting one foot in front of the other even though experience tells me that I could be flat on my back with the next step?
Because He owns it all. I gave it to Him. I gave Him my work. I gave Him my steps. I gave him my success and my failure. He owns the rug, and He is the one who chooses whether or not to pull it.
As I was thinking through all of this before I fell asleep that night, I said another prayer. Lord, if I fail, please let me serve you better in spite of that failure. Then I stopped and corrected myself. No, when I fail, let me serve you better because of that failure.
God doesn’t work in the “in spite of” He works in the “because.” I believe that every success and failure has a purpose even if I never know what that is. But if God can use those heartbreaks to draw me closer to Him and serve Him better, shouldn’t that be an adequate “because”?
I think therein lies the challenge. When we fail, especially when we are sure we were doing everything right, it’s so tempting to be angry and shoot whys God’s direction. It’s a lot more difficult to draw closer to the one who pulled the rug and seek to love Him more. As Job says, “Though He slay me, yet I trust Him.” Job 13:15 Maybe that is the true gift of loss—recognizing that your faith exists regardless of your circumstances and that you will still trust God whatever may come your way. But it is a gift only given through tears.
Notice also I said when, not if. It looks like I’m not going to fall flat with this project, but I’m not on the magic carpet either. Like most things, it’ll probably end up somewhere in between. I’ve already heard wonderful feedback on my paper bag story that has touched readers. While thousands haven’t read it, touching those that have is more than enough to call it success for me.
However, not all of my efforts will always end well. It’s inevitable that sometime I’ll find myself looking up, gasping and wondering what just happened to my not-so-magic rug.
When I fail, let me serve you better because of that failure.
And here I am again, finger hovering over the publish button on this article, wondering if it will fail but praying that God will use it to touch someone.
To anyone else out there who is hoping to fly on a magic carpet but fearing you won’t even cross the room upright, make sure to turn around and look at who is holding the rug.
And remember, you don’t need to ask Him the why. Just ask Him for a because.
P.S. If you haven’t yet read the free paper bag story I talked about in this post, please scroll down or click this link.
I’ve always believed that a compelling story can be written about anything, even a paper bag. After all, the quality of a story doesn’t depend on the topic as much as the writing. So I decided to take the challenge and put my paper bag theory to the test!
So, here you go! Want to see if a paper bag can touch your heart? Make sure you read all the way to the end!
The brown paper bag slid from her fingertips, the wind conspiring with icy snowflakes to whip it away from the open car window.
Frantic cries of “Daddy, stop!” accompanied the bag’s exit, but the car sped away, the brake lights never flashing red.
The bag flew behind the vehicle as if on wings for a few glorious seconds before plastering against the windshield of another car. The car swerved while the driver yelled insults at it and the world in general until the bag lost its grip, flinging away from the smooth glass and tumbling to a landing in the middle of the road.
Snow continued to fall, dotting the bag with pinpricks of moisture until they joined together, transforming the once crisp brown paper into a soggy film that melted to the road.
A cat darted across the street, stopping to sniff the bag and the faint aroma of Christmas cookies lingering on it. The cat startled, looking up as headlights spotlighted its glowing eyes. Waiting for the last second, it crouched over the bag, daring the approaching car closer. Suddenly, it took off, streaking across the road as the car weaved, trying to avoid the dark shadow.
The bag waited patiently as traffic slowed with the night. Snowflakes no longer melted against it but formed a layer of ice, pinning it to the hard asphalt. Fluffy snow piled on top until the bag became part of the landscape, no longer distinguishable from the rest of winter.
Finally, dawn peeked over the eastern hills and a pair of huge glowing beacons, brighter and louder than any others, came barreling toward the bag. With a loud scraping against the asphalt, they scooped the bag up in an avalanche and carried it down the road to join a massive wall of snow. The vehicle backed away, but the bag clung to its metal shovel until the unsteady grunting and jerking became too much. Reluctantly, it released its hold, once again falling to the ground.
The sun chased away the last shadows of night. A speedy little car buzzed past, its tires running directly over the bag, imprinting its tread on the wet paper and carrying it along for the space of a dizzying merry-go-round ride until it stopped at a gas station. The bag escaped only to stand sentinel in the slush as a long line of cars stopped, pumped their gas, and left, no one seeing the brown paper bag beside them.
A woman stepped out of her car and checked her watch. Her movements hurried as she pushed buttons on the pump. She stepped back, her foot landing directly on the bag. Like glue, the wet paper clung fiercely to her shoe, and when she stepped, the bag came with it.
Grumbling, she reached down and ripped the bag from her shoe. With two disgusted fingers, she held the wet piece of trash away from her and marched it over to the garbage can where it belonged.
Suddenly, she stopped.
Thoughtfully, her now curious fingers carefully pried apart the gooey paper. She reached inside and pulled out a plastic sandwich bag. Nestled inside, kept safe from the bag’s obvious trauma, was a picture of a little boy with an ornament frame around it. The little frame had been painstakingly colored with a Christmas rainbow of markers. With the picture ornament was a note written in a child’s hand:
Dear Mommy
I made this for u. I hop God lets u hve
Crismas preznts in heven.
Love,
Max
The woman held the paper bag and its contents for a long time. Then she placed everything in her car, finished with the gas pump, and drove away. The paper bag spent all day on the passenger seat of the woman’s car. By the time she returned, the bag was dry and crinkly once again.
They drove to a store. The woman got out and eventually returned with a large, helium-filled balloon. She then drove to a park with heavy drifts of snow resting against the trees. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the boy’s little face smiling from the ornament. Then she gathered the balloon in one hand and the bag and its contents in the other and marched through the snow to the center of the park.
With cold fingers, she tied the paper-framed ornament to the long string attached to the balloon and bowed her head. When her eyes opened again, she held the balloon outstretched. Then her fingers slowly parted and released it.
She watched as the balloon lifted high in the leaden sky, the little gift swaying gently on the string below. She snapped a picture with her phone then opened an app. Her fingers numbing with cold, she quickly typed out a caption:
Hey, Max, I don’t know you, but I found your paper bag with the present for your mom. Don’t worry. I sent it off to heaven. I know she’ll love it.
Love,
Lexi
After posting, she looked back up in the sky, watching until she could see the balloon and its precious cargo no more. With a sigh, she turned and walked back to her car, still holding the crumpled, torn paper bag in one hand. Beside her car stood a trash can. She walked over to it. The paper hovered once again over the garbage, waiting for its release.
But her hand drew back. She looked at the bag, and her fingers gently smoothed out the wrinkles that could never be erased.
She got back into the car and placed the empty bag back on the passenger seat beside her.
Maybe she’d throw it away later.
After all, it was just a paper bag.
“The Paper Bag” has a longer “sequel,” and I’m offering it for free to newsletter subscribers! To subscribe and find out what happens next, click here.
If you enjoyed this mini story, please share with friends so they can enjoy it, too! You can share this website post or you can share this Facebook post of “The Paper Bag.”
And to think it all started with a paper bag!
Last week was a rough one. Nobody was sick. No tragedy occurred. In fact, there really was little worth complaining about. It was just one of those weeks, like so many in typical 2020, where you get to the end and think, “Whew! That was rough!”
Part of what made it tough for me was that it was tough for one of my kids. I remember my mom saying that when you have multiple kids in the house, every day is a bad day for somebody! Since my heart walks around on four different pairs of legs, the chances of it hurting are pretty high.
In this case, some of the “tough” had to do with my son’s math test.. It’s been a tough math year so far this year, so he was pretty nervous about it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s extremely smart and good at math, which makes the challenge of this year even more frustrating. The night before his test, he reviewed and studied for about three hours. I sat beside him, checked his answers with my own work, and made sure he was understanding the steps of the oft-times complex algebra problems. At the end of the night, I was confident that he knew his stuff. I was wiped out tired and reaching back decades to remember how to graph little numbers and letters on a grid I could barely see. He ended up telling me what I did wrong when our answers didn’t match and understood the material inside out and backwards. I prayed with him before bed and called it good, feeling confident that there was nothing more he could have done to prepare.
The next day, I got an email from my son while he was at school. Obviously very upset, he told me he’d gone in at lunch to finish his test and scored the lowest grade he’d ever gotten on a math test in his life. Honestly, my first inclination was to try to find out exactly what went wrong. Did you not check your answers? How exactly did you mess up? Fortunately, I read between the lines of his few words. My easy-going, Pollyanna boy was frustrated and saying things like “take me out of this class. I can’t do it.” I took a deep breath and a few minutes before responding. He was frustrated, upset, and worried about how I would react.
What does he need to hear right now?
Then, slowly, I typed only a few words in reply: “It will be okay. We will figure it out. I love you.” Then I clicked send.
He soon replied with only two words: “Ok, thanks.” But even in those two words, I knew that the waters of his emotions were calmed. Because he believed me. He believed it would be okay. He believed I would help him figure it out. And he believed I loved him.
As I drove to pick him up at the end of the day, I was reflecting and thought about how many times, even as adults, we just need someone to say those same words I spoke to him.
Then I heard a gentle whisper. Don’t I always?
I then realized that the Bible proclaims that very message in every page. God has written it there for all to see. But His message to us is even more beautiful and powerful than mine to my son. For God’s words say something slightly different.
It will be okay. I have it figured out. I love you.
We often feel like we’ve gotten ourselves into a hopeless situation that we can’t manage to get out of. And we’re probably right. But no situation, no screw up, no tragedy comes as a surprise to God. He knew it was coming, and He already has a plan to get us through it.
One of the most frequently misinterpreted verses in the Bible is Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” People often whip out this verse as a band aid when someone is going through something tough. However, if you read the context of the verse, you realize that God didn’t say this at the end of a tough time, but at the beginning. After those words were spoken, things went from bad to worse, at least if you were keeping tabs on the outside circumstances. But God doesn’t work the short game. Through that verse, He was telling His people that things are going to get bad. You’re going to face tragedy, persecution, and dark times. Not everyone was going to make it. But, I know the plans I have for you. They will bring about your eventual good.
In many ways, this context should be even more comforting. Just because bad things happen doesn’t mean that God has abandoned you. Even if they go from bad to worse and your life gives Job’s a good competition, you can take comfort in knowing that God plays the long game. He has a plan, and His plan is good.
I don’t know how my son’s math will turn out. I don’t know if he will manage to get a decent grade. But even if he doesn’t, I’ll be right there beside him to figure things out and help him through. And I am confident that whatever happens will be for his eventual good.
It’s 2020. You pretty much never know what craziness tomorrow will bring. I do know that tomorrow is the election. People are very divided. No matter who wins, one set of people will be happy and celebrate while the other side will be upset and think that times are about to get very dark and tough. Let me encourage you that whatever your circumstances—if your candidate loses, if you’re crying tomorrow and convinced the world is ending, if you’re sick, if you’re facing tragedy, if 2020 has just been a tough one, or if you just bombed a math test…
Listen to the gentle whisper that echoes an entire Bible of the same message:
It will be okay. I already have it figured out. I love you.
Then believe Him.
So, what are your kids doing for school this fall? It’s the burning, million-dollar question I’ve both asked and been asked over and over the last few weeks. I’ve weighed so many different options, done endless research, read countless articles, and changed my mind at least a dozen times. The short answer is that I have no clue.
Everything is constantly changing. As soon as I make up my mind one direction, the rules of the game change, and now I have to decide between my new options. Do I send my kids to school with masks, do we do this hybrid schedule, do I opt for a distance learning model with the school district, do I sign up for a different online program, or do I throw everything out the window and do it all myself? Some people have strong opinions, and their opinions make sense and are entirely justified. However, I suspect that the silent majority of us are smack in the middle. We don’t know what to do and can’t figure out if we are coming or going.
At one point during the last few weeks, I was sure we’d do the remote learning provided by the district. At another point, I decided that we’d just go back with whatever plan the schools had in place for in-person learning. At still another point, I was researching different online schools and the differences of each. Then there was the co-op plan where my sister and I brainstormed dividing schooling duties. And then, there was the time I was pouring over the grade level standards for my kids’ different grades, looking at homeschool curriculum, and deciding how to do it all myself.
Then there is the mask issue. Political? Not political? Effective? Ineffective? Harmful? Safe? I have no idea. I do know that I don’t want my kids to have to learn through a mask. But, I also don’t want them to go to school without one if that’s what they need to stay safe. Do we? Don’t we? Who do I listen to? Medical experts? Media? Politicians? Education experts? Facebook? You can pretty much find any “research” to support your view. The problem is that these articles and research often tout completely opposing “facts”!
And friends. Will my kids’ friends be at school? I know some of them won’t. What if all of the “good kids” stay home? I have waking nightmares of seeing my shy 11-year-old wondering around outside without anyone. But then again, they’re not supposed to socialize, right? Best friends six feet apart?
What’s all of this going to look like? What if it changes every few days and is a mosaic of complete chaos? Do I make a decision based on health or education? How do I know what will truly be best for my children and family? I want them to get to do the classes they want and have the best learning experience possible, yet I can’t handle it if the thought of one of the kids getting Covid and spreading it to the vulnerable people in our family.
So, what are you doing? Are you sending your kid
I. Don’t. Know. What. To. Do.
It drives me crazy. I’ve felt an intense amount of stress and had migraines almost daily for the last month. This post is in no way meant to tell you what to do. I don’t even know what I think and feel. And, if you wait five minutes, I’m sure my plan will change. If you tell me your opinion and why you’re choosing a certain route, chances are good that I will completely agree with you. Then, if I talk to someone else an hour later, I will absolutely agree with them, even if they have a completely opposing view to yours from an hour ago. The weird thing is that I’m not lying to anyone. I’m being completely honest. In those moments, opposite opinions are completely true representations of how I feel.
About a week and a half ago, I was praying through my stress, fears, and concerns. I say “praying” but that is really a very loose definition. In reality, I’d start to pray, but then my thoughts would get distracted and I’d forget who I was supposed to be talking to. Soon, I’d be back to worrying, weighing the different options and panicking because I didn’t know what to do.
For me, faith wasn’t the issue. If I just knew what to put my faith in, I’d be okay. But I didn’t know whether to send my kids to school and have faith that God will keep them safe, or homeschool them and have faith that they would be okay, get what they need educationally and socially, and still be on the right track when the mess is finally over. What should I put my faith in?
As soon as the thought left my mind, I got an answer.
It’s not a question of what to put my faith in. It’s a question of Who! My faith is in God who created everything and is more than qualified to handle whatever may come. With my faith secure in His hands, none of the “whats” actually matter.
With that thought, a lot of the pressure rolled off. No matter what happens, no matter what I choose, God is the one in control, not me. I will pray for wisdom and try to make the best possible decision, but I’m not going to mess things up more than God can fix them. Choosing one way will not be a sin. The Bible doesn’t list sending or not sending your kids to school during Covid as one of the highlights of the ten commandments. It is a choice. One that God is allowing me to make. Though it feels like I’m walking on a tightrope high over the ground and that I’ll fall with any wrong move, He’s got the safety net under me.
I don’t know what we’ll do. Not for sure. And it’s not even restricted to school issues. There are big unknowns all over my life, as there are for everyone in this twilight zone. For today, I’ve decided which direction we’re head, but everything can change tomorrow. Today’s decision is not tomorrow’s, and I reserve the prerogative to change my mind multiple times in between days as well.
But I do know Who is in all of my tomorrows. He’s already there. He has a plan even when I don’t. Whether we go to school or don’t… Whether we get Covid or don’t… Whether 2020 deals us another unbelievable hand… Whether tomorrow is sunny or stormy… We’re going to be okay. God’s already in our tomorrows and will make sure that all things (even the tough, yucky ones) work together for my family’s good, according to His purpose. And He’ll do the same for you.
Yes, I still feel the stress. I still haven’t shaken the migraines. I still have a book due in about three weeks, and it isn’t writing itself. I still feel anxious every time I find out a parent I respect is making a decision that might differ from my own. I try to tell myself that just because what I do is different than what you do doesn’t mean that I’m right and you’re wrong. Nor does it mean that you’re right and I’m wrong. We’re both simply trying to make the best decisions for our families and circumstances, and neither one of us owns a crystal ball. So, I’ll pray for your decision as you try to sort out the wisest, safest, smartest, most responsible, best decision for your family, and you pray for mine. And if they don’t look the same, that’s okay.Maybe I’m taking door #1 and you’re choosing #5. Eventually, I believe that we’ll recognize the same Guide leading us different routes to the same destination.
Despite the continued uncertainty, I feel a peacethat I didn’t feel before. Every time the stress closes in, I start to panic, not knowing what to do as I run the endless maze of trying to separate the good decisions from the bad ones.
Then I feel God quietly whisper. Whatever your decision, whether it’s a good one or a bad one—I’ve got dibs.
