Hope for the Hurting
Have you ever longed to be part of the group? To be noticed? Accepted? I’ve been there. Wanting to be accepted, included, validated. At a women’s conference, I hoped for the wisdom of a mature woman in the faith for my current heart’s cry. I stood in front of her, waiting in line to have just a few moments of her time. [more]read more
“I’m worried that, no scratch that. I have a concern that if we don’t address the issue, it could become a bigger issue later on,” I explained. “Why did you say it like that?” “Because our words have power, and God tells us not to worry. So I’m going to choose not to worry in this situation, and trust Him, while taking appropriate action.” [more]read more
I perhaps identify with the descriptors brokenhearted and crushed in spirit more now than I ever have. Even when I went through the valley of depression, I didn’t describe myself as “crushed in spirit.” The weight of the past year has been heavy but the betrayal of another left me feeling both brokenhearted and crushed in spirit. [more]read more
Everything inside me was on hyper-alert as I sat in the hospital’s surgical waiting room. When someone stood to get a cup of coffee, my gaze reflexively followed them. When someone signed in or out at the waiting room desk, my head jerked up. When a name was called over the speaker, my mind did a double take to ensure it wasn’t mine. And every time a surgeon walked through the doors to confer with a family member, I started to rise, even though I knew it would still be hours before I would hear a word. [more]read more
I recognized her, but not for the reason you might think. She walked into my office, her two week old infant over her shoulder, infant carrier slung over one elbow, diaper bag with burp cloth falling out over the other elbow. A pacifier hanging from a robin’s egg blue ribbon dangled from her clenched teeth. “Here, how can I help you?” I offered. [more]read more
We sat side by side waiting for our names to be called. My right hand held his left, and rested on his left thigh. I glanced in his direction, but he was distracted—looking at the clock for the third time in five minutes. Waiting to see the doctor on chemotherapy days was never fun, but especially when we waited to hear lab results to know if the poisonous torture was making a difference. [more]read more
The day was wide open before me. I had a long list of things I hoped to accomplish on my one day off that didn’t include a doctor’s appointment, chemotherapy infusion, patients to see in my office, track practice or meet, church committee meeting, or meet up with one of the women I mentor. I was excited with anticipation of all I could get done. [more]read more
It’s so easy to get caught up in the busyness of the day. To hit the “snooze” button on the alarm clock once or twice to make up for going to bed late. To spend too much time deciding on the perfect outfit for the day ahead. And before I know it, I’ve squandered away my quiet time, the time before the stresses and decisions and chaos of the day truly unfolds. Does that ever happen to you, or is it just me? [more]read more
I’ll never forget the day. My young son came home from school despondent, and lacking his normal carefree smile. When I scooped him up in a hug and attempted to lighten the mood with a tickle-fest, I was instead greeted with tears. “Mom, some kids at school said I wasn’t smart enough to sit at the cool kids’ table.” [more]read more
It seemed impossible to me. We searched for answers, but in our humanness, we found none. Doubt and despair tempted us. Some had shared that if they were in our shoes, they would probably curl up in a ball and pull the covers over their head. I never saw what good that would do. I have much more of a take-charge kind of personality. The problem was, there wasn’t anything I could do other than depend on Him to intervene. [more]read more
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