Pray the Hardest, when it is the hardest to pray

Something I’ve been thinking about is how different Nathan’s and my perspectives on children might be now. Twelve years ago, we were doing similar work at the children’s shelter. Nathan worked with the boys and I worked with preschool, but we were both approaching children from fairly similar staff roles. Now things are different. I’ve spent all these years working directly with children in classrooms and child-development settings. My brain has learned to look at development, routines, communication, sensory needs, transitions, independence, learning, behavior, and functional skills. When a child is struggling, I might immediately start wondering: What happened right before this? Is the child overwhelmed? Is the environment too much? Is the task developmentally appropriate? Can the child communicate what they need? Is there a sensory need involved? What skill are we expecting that the child may not have yet? How can I change what I’m doing to help this child succeed? Nathan may look a...

Dear Lord, Thank You for bringing an old, familiar person back into my life in such an unexpected way. You know all the history between us—the good memories, the awkward parts, the things left unfinished, and everything I still wonder about. And Lord… apparently two people who spend all day teaching children to use their words need to take some of their own advice.  Give me courage when I see him. Help me not overthink a simple question until it becomes enormous in my head. If I get a natural opportunity, help me simply say what I want to ask: “How long are you going to be here?” Help me listen to his answer instead of jumping ten steps ahead. Thank You for every smile and every “hey.” They may be small things, but they've meant something to me. And if it's my turn to take one small step and actually use a complete sentence, give me the courage to do it.  But after I take my turn, Lord, help me leave room for him to take his. If a friendship is meant to grow again, let it be m...

When a co-worker and I worked together at the children’s shelter in 2014, we probably thought our job was to teach, protect, encourage, and care for the kids. And it was. But looking back twelve years later, I realize something else was happening at the same time. Those kids were teaching us, too. Every difficult behavior taught us something about patience. Every child who needed someone to stay beside them taught us something about relationships. Every meltdown, argument, funny moment, accomplishment, and ordinary day gave us experience that we couldn’t have gotten from a textbook. At the time, we probably didn’t realize how much those experiences were shaping us. We were still figuring out our own lives and careers. Nathan had dreams and plans for where his life might take him, and I was still building my own career working with children. Neither one of us could have known exactly where we would be twelve years later. Yet here we are in 2026, and children are still part of both of ou...

I think today finally broke through something I’ve been trying to understand. I’m tired. Not just tired from work or school or everything going on around me. I’m tired of caring about people so deeply and then feeling like I have to figure out everything they aren’t saying. I seem to be drawn toward people who are strong for everybody else. The quiet ones. The ones who don’t necessarily tell you when they’re hurting, worried, struggling, or even what they’re feeling at all. And because I care, I start paying attention to everything. I notice changes. I notice when they’re gone. I notice their expressions. I wonder what they’re thinking. I try to put all the little pieces together. And it is exhausting. I think some of this goes back to Mom and her heart issues. I loved her, I worried about her, and there were times when I felt like I had to guess how she was really doing. When you love somebody, not knowing is incredibly hard. Maybe that’s why this thing with this old coworker has hit ...

Tonight I think I finally found a name for some of what I’m learning: intentional love. I’ve always heard, “Listen to your heart.” But I’m realizing that doesn’t mean my heart should automatically control what I do. My heart can tell me that someone matters to me. It can care quickly, deeply, and intensely. But then my mind, my faith, my values, and my boundaries have to help me decide how to carry that care. Maybe that’s intentional love. As a Christian, the greatest example I know of intentional and sacrificial love is Jesus. Christ didn’t simply feel love for us. He chose to love us. He demonstrated that love through the cross. Romans 5:8 says that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. But God also gives us a choice. He invites us to choose Him. He doesn’t force a relationship with Him. Obviously, my human relationships aren’t the same as God’s relationship with us, but there’s something in that principle that I think I need to learn: Deep love and freedom can exist toget...

A Letter to Myself: Remembering Who I Am For a long time, I felt like I lost myself. Eight years of stress, trying to please everyone, carrying too much, and feeling overwhelmed slowly changed the way I saw myself. I became focused on surviving instead of enjoying life. Fear became loud, and I forgot what peace felt like. Then someone came back into my life at a time when I needed a reminder of who I was. His presence brought back feelings I thought I had lost — peace, confidence, joy, and the feeling of being myself again. He reminded me of a calmer version of me, the person underneath all the stress and fear. I was nervous. I didn’t know what would happen. But I made a choice: I said “hey.” It was a small moment, but it was a brave moment. I realized: “I can be nervous and still be brave.” “I can take a step even when I’m afraid.” “I am still capable of connecting.” “I am still me.” That moment showed me something I never expected: I could do something outside of my comfort zone. I c...