Good Friday's Cross

Recently, I was excited to attend an event where one of my favorite authors would be speaking. One of my best girlfriends and I grabbed a nice dinner beforehand and we made our way to the venue. Before we found our seats, we saw and connected with ladies from all over town and various phases of our lives.

The worship was on point.

The Holy Spirit moved.

It was definitely where I was supposed to be that night.... but....

I couldn't put my finger on it. My girlfriend and I spoke about it some as we left that night. My sister-in-law also chatted with me about it the next day. Another friend who attended shared with me in the hall at church a couple of days later. - We were all glad we were there. We all felt the Spirit move - yet we all felt something was lacking....


This morning, in my devotional time, on Good Friday - it clicked . . . .

The text that night was Romans 8:1. The title of the tour was "The Freedom Project" and the passage was perfect. The author/speaker effectively and eloquently, transparently and profoundly led the women in attendance to lay down the sins of our past and challenged us to faithfully live out the truth of the verse -

"There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Romans 8:1

By God's grace, He allowed us to feel the pain of exposing our sins . By His grace, we found accountability in confessing them aloud. By grace, we saw our sins for what they are, we felt real regret for their presence and prevalence in our lives, and we were able to feel forgiveness for what had been exposed. 

As one lady yelled from the back of the room, "There is NO CONDEMNATION!" and we all clapped and we all cheered.

So what was the hang up? Why couldn't I just chalk it up to a great night and move on? 

This morning, I read a devotional though by John Piper and he used the word "condemnation" and it all came into a clear focus. He wrote, "The death of Christ secures our freedom from condemnation (Romans 8:1). It is as sure that we cannot be condemned as it is sure that Christ died.... Condemnation is gone not because there isn't any, but because it has already happened..."

There is no condemnation for my sin BECAUSE Jesus took it for me. His death on the cross was the condemnation that my sin deservedly required. Good Friday is "good" because the price for my freedom from condemnation has been paid in full. Good Friday is ALL about condemnation. 

I was thankful for the "late" date of Easter this year. I thought it would give me more time to prepare my heart and the hearts of my daughters. But everything I tried so far this year was feeling coerced and contrived. Nothing was feeling authentic, but more like I was just going through the motions. 

It came to a head at dinner last night as Wally and I tried to talk to the girls about the significance and gravity of the night before Good Friday. Maybe it was Satan's distractions or our lack of prayer, maybe it was our approach or their own internal battle with their unrepentant hearts - but it just wasn't happening. (Honestly, it was most likely a combination of all of those things.)

Disappointment would be a good way to describe my mood as I prayed before bed last night. It had been an overall really good day with lots to be thankful for, but this was not spiritually how I wanted to spend this holy weekend ending in Easter. I asked for His intervention and He definitely delivered this morning. 

As I read my devotionals and felt the ending of the message started by that speaker dawn on my heart, the weight of the glory of Good Friday became real. 

Bible scholars call it "substitutionary atonement." Christ took my place, my punishment, my condemnation, that I may know His freedom, live my created purpose and pursue a relationship with God. 

"It is good to look back and celebrate the rescue of grace. . . . Grace lives a the intersection between clarity of sight and hope for the future." These were a few of the words of Paul David Tripp's in his devotional for today in his book "New Morning Mercies." 

"Intersection" - a crossroads, where two ideas converge . . . My mind went to the vertical and horizontal beams of Good Friday's cross . . . 

At the cross, grace allows me to look back and look within and leave my sins. Grace also enables me to look ahead at my present circumstances and future destinations with hopeful resolve. Vertically, my relationship with God is restored and my future is secured. Horizontally, I can see God restoring and redeeming my past, my relationships and my everything for His purposes. 

This morning, the "therefore" and the "in Christ Jesus" of Romans 8:1 is my mediation and my worship's focus. He heard my prayer last night. He wrapped up the spiritual longing I had been feeling. He began to truly prepare my heart to celebrate why I have no condemnation in Christ Jesus this Easter season. 

Now that He has placed my heart in the right position, I pray that He will use me to influence the other four hearts that call this house home too.... 

(By the way, I hope this author comes back to Clarksville, or Nashville or somewhere close soon . . . I will definitely be buying tickets!)

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Better-Than-Disney Ending

If you're a fan of animation, particularly of the Disney genre, you will know my approximate age when I tell you that I remember going to see the Disney Renaissance movies in theaters for their original releases. After a couple of decades of poorly reviewed films, the animation department released hit after hit: The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, Aladdin.

I loved the adventure described in each plot, but it was the romance that kept me coming back for more and made me a fan for life. Still loving these movies, you can find me curled up on the couch with or without my daughters, munching on popcorn and engrossed in these films I have seen dozens of times. I can literally recite many of them, line-by-line from memory.

My favorite fiction books, sitcoms, dramas, movies - whatever mode of being told a story - all have one great thing in common. They all end the way that they are supposed to end. Yes, many if not most of the time the endings are incredibly predictable. The iconic phrase "Happily Ever After" may even scroll across the screen or be typed at end of the final page.

This idea of how things are supposed to be, the ending we all long for is actually a grace given to us by our Creator. We are supposed to look around at our world, at our lives and come to the same conclusion - things are NOT the way that they should be. This longing for justice and happy endings and everything to be neatly tied with a bow, is an internal compulsion that forces us to seek answers and to work to make things better.

It is in this seeking for answers and working for better that I have found purpose and meaning to my life and to all the crazy that is within it. As I walk with Jesus and grow in my relationship with Him, through His Word and prayer and His work inside of me, I have found the answers I need and the source of all that is good.

Don't get me wrong - my life is not easy, but it is easier than some, and often there are more why's in my prayers than thank you's, but I trust the One with the answers. The more I learn and know of Him, the more faith I have in His power and His ability to redeem the failures in my life and make sense of the chaos around me.

There are relationships in my life that are not what I would want them to be. Parenting is hard and I know from years of student ministry that there are no guarantees or warrantees on particular methods. I am often failing and my fears of not being up to the task at work, at home, and/or at church keep me longing for the day when my strivings shall cease and I will no longer be forced to face life in this fallen place.

Honestly, this morning after trying to parent two in our church pew for disobedience during the church service and feeling completely unsuccessful in my attempt to worship, I had to leave the service to check my makeup. As the deacon prayed the offertory prayer, I slipped out of my seat to find I didn't look like the total mess and fraud I felt like.

Call it spiritual warfare or my own lack of faith or some kind of combination of both, but when I left the service this morning I felt defeated.

I want the ending now. I know it is coming, the day when Christ returns or calls me home, when everything is set right and good triumphs over evil and all is truly well with my soul - however it is God that chooses to bring this present age to its conclusion.

In the meantime, I am struggling with my perspective on it all.

Somedays I feel entitled to certain endings to specific "storylines" in my life. Somedays I just want to wash my hands of the job, the ministry responsibility and the relationship. Somedays I just want to escape into a Disney movie with a box of Sour Patch Kids AND a Milky Way Midnight, pretending like this isn't my reality at all.

Yet, I know that God is at work. He isn't wasting my time or His as I wait for the conclusions of it all. He has an intentional plan as He is actively working in all these "plot lines" of my life and those of all of us who are called according to His purposes. He is in the seemingly insignificant details and in the major twists too - both of individuals and of nations.

It is all bigger than me. Yes, it is war - there are forces unseen locked in battle all around. But it is His grace that is evident in it all.

It is grace that things are not right and good and easy in life SO I will seek Him, acknowledging my need for Him and my dependance on Him.

It is grace that He uses these same circumstances to make me more like Him, cultivating His fruit within me and somehow using me for His desired and determined outcome.

It is grace that He is leading me to accept, yes at times with heartache, that things are not as they should be.

It is grace that will eventually let me see ALL His promises fulfilled and experience the most epic of "Happily Ever Afters" that there will ever be.

In the meantime, at this point in the story - I seek Him, trusting Him by attempting to loosely embrace the brokenness around me. I pray that then He can bring even more beauty from these acknowledged ashes, and that He will use my awareness of the effects of sin in my life in ways that I cannot begin to fathom so that He will receive all the recognition - because, simply put, this is NOT the way that I would do things.

It is all from and for and to and through Him. This is my better-than-Disney ending.

Facing Fears By Holding Hands

I could tell from her cry that the fear was as sincere as it could be. Mommas know the differences in their kids' cries. It starts when they're young - there is the hungry cry, the tired cry, the change-my-diaper cry. . . As the baby gets older and is better able to communicate, some of the cries stop altogether, but there are a few tears that linger - the hurt cry, the angry cry and the scared cry.

At five and a half, Eliza had not cried the scared cry- not like this - in a long, long time. I recognized it instantly though and my heart hurt for her heart. I got on her level and did my best to help teach her how to address this very real, very valid fear.

"Look at me Eliza. What do you know to be true? Look at me. Let's think this through. Look at me. Look at me. The hippo isn't real. Look at me. It's just a robot. It can't get you. It won't get you. Look at me. I am right here. You aren't alone. Look at me. I won't let it get you because it can't get you."

Her sobs slowed and she slowly began to repeat the truths after me - "The hippo isn't real. Mommy is here. It's just a robot." We hugged and I took her hand as we proceeded into the restaurant to look at the aquarium of Finding Nemo type fishies.

Parenting that day outside of the Rainforest Cafe of the Opry Mills Mall, was definitely a moment where I felt the weight of my responsibility as a parent and, also was reminded about my role as a child of God as well.

Two of my three daughters have been deathly afraid of the life-sized animatronic hippopotamus outside of this particular restaurant. We've even nicknamed the whole mall, The Hippo Mall. On one level, it seems something silly to be scared about, but from their small vantage point in a time of their life where they are trying to ascertain reality from fantasy - it is a legitimate some thing to fear.

Eliza had been dreading that moment when we would arrive in THAT corner of the mall. Her feelings were so overwhelming, she could not rationally think through what she knew to be true. She could not talk herself off the ledge.  Her cry was one of desperation and despair.

As her parent, I know that she is old enough to handle this kind of thing - if she knows how. As her parent, I know that is my responsibility to teach her how to face this fear. As her parent, I know that teaching her to handle this fear gives me an opportunity to teach her how to face other fears, bigger ones, scarier ones, ones that won't be so easy to conquer.

So, I taught her to focus on the things she knew to be true. By teaching her to speak truths aloud, she can hear her own voice reminding her heart of what her brain already knows. That silly hippo no longer has a hold over her. His power is lessoned as her faith is strengthened.

Walking away with her little hand still grasping mine, I felt the nudge of the Holy Spirit.

This is why I read the Bible daily.
This is why I should memorize more scripture.
This is why I need to intentionally preach the gospel to myself.

I had studied a long time ago the inverse proportional relationship between faith and fear. When one increases, the other decreases. The more faith you have, the less fear and vice versa. If my faith increases, my fear will decrease. . .

When I find myself afraid, I need to do the very things I taught Eliza to do in the midst of that busy Nashville shopping mall. . . .

Look at Him.  - Just as she struggled to take her eyes off the thing causing her fear and refocus on her loving parent, I know I struggle too. I can't seem to take my eyes off my circumstances - that they will get worse or get me while I stop to look to God. Yet, He gently, consistently and patiently calls me to look at Him.

What do you know to be true?  - My God is bigger, My God is stronger, My God is higher than any other. (Do you know that chorus too?) He loves me. He has good plans for me. He will never leave me or forsake me. As I claim these truths, He shifts my perspective. What seemed so large, so overwhelming and so frightening no longer seems so daunting. He is given the rightful, dominate place and position over me and my fears.

Just as I reminded Eliza that I loved her and was there to take care of her - our God loves and cares for His children in the same way.

A few of the most fear-filled moments in my life were the hours I spent birthing our three loves. The Holy Spirit never failed to bring truth to the forefront of my mind as I dealt with painful contractions. The specific passages were ones I had memorized years before, but focusing on their timeless truth helped me to overcome my fears.

Despite His continual faithfulness in circumstances big and small, I still so easily become irrational and, at times, inconsolable over things that should not scare me. Satan knows my deepest insecurities and unashamedly exploits them.

His grace intervenes. Praise Him!

I need to be reminded of His presence in my darkest places and I need to know His truth reigns over all my feeble attempts of bravery and bravado. The Holy Spirit whispers, reminding me to look at Him, to reflect on what I know to be true.  As I speak the promises of God aloud, my heart hears the truth my brain knows and I am encouraged and empowered. My faith increases and my fear decreases.

Just as Eliza and I moved on, hand-in-hand, so will I. As faith, slowly and surely displaces my fears, I can walk confidently, holding the hand of my God who understands and controls what I cannot.


Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplash

What's Next?

Alright. What's next?

The things that have to be done are done.

The house is pretty clean for once. All 2 and half bathrooms are clean. The laundry is caught up. The girls are doing well in school. There is no crisis at work. My marriage is in a good place.

The calendar is full of the average, ordinary events, but nothing big or demanding is written on any of the squares.

The projects that have been pushed to someday, seem approachable and doable.

Life has a way of coming in and out like the tide. The waves never stop, but with certain phases of the moon, the water seems calmer, nicer and even cleaner. There are definitely phases of storms with all their uncertainty of what could happen next - how high the water might come and what destruction might be left in its path.

Right now though, things are good. I am content. We have found a normal and it isn't crazy. By God's grace, this phase of life is definitely "doable" and that kinda scares me . . .

It leaves me asking Him, "What's next?"

In my devotions and Bible studies, I have been reading over and over again how God's grace isn't always good from our perspective, how I should embrace trials and tribulations as one of His followers, and how if Jesus was a man of sorrows I can expect opportunities to emulate Him in sorrowful times of my own.

One of the take-aways in the Sunday school lesson this morning, was how God's protection, provision and presence goes with us - even if going puts in the fiery furnace of Shadrach, Meshach and Adednego. These guys stood firm on their solid knowledge of their God and told the king that even if God didn't save them from the fire, He was still God and still worth dying for.

I know God uses the calm periods in-between life's storms to prepare us for what's ahead. He teaches us the truths we need while we are in the light, so He can develop them in the dark when it is hard to see, hard to trust, and hard to go on.

So, I find myself questioning and thinking, "What's next?"

Is some bad news coming with the next ring of the phone? Is there a hard situation on the horizon that I need to be poised to work through? Is that pain that won't leave my knee a thing? Should I make a doctor's appointment?

Or has God placed me in this current phase because He is wanting something more for me or something else from me?  Is there something I am missing that I should be doing? Is there a relationship I could be working on? A friend to serve? A ministry to support? To start?

I don't know the answer to the question, "What's next?" But I know He knows and that is enough.

Ruth Chou Simmons of Gracelaced often says, "You don't have to be blooming to be growing." Maybe that is exactly where God has me right now. Maybe He is preparing my heart for hard days ahead. Maybe He is prepping me to take on a new project. Maybe He just wants me to be content with Him and not be looking for whatever's next.

So, I will press on. I will read my Bible and pray. I will worship and press into Him. I will love on my family and serve my people.

And, in the meantime, I might actually get my hall bathroom painted!

Photo by Larm Rmah on Unsplash

Big Deal, Big Day

I remember when I used to think 40 was old.

Then Wally turned 40 and it didn't seem THAT old. Now, it's nearly 3 years in my past and 40 doesn't seem old at all anymore.

Today is the day that 50 no longer seems THAT old. Yep, today Wally is 50 years old, half a century, five decades . . .

He threatened me not to plan anything special for his birthday and I promised him I wouldn't. That would be my gift to him, not making a big deal out of his big day. If you know him at all, then you know that is the perfect gift for him.

Wally has never wanted a celebration for his birthday. He would be happiest if we just ignored it and just kept swimming through life. He doesn't want the recognition. He doesn't need the validation. He likes the appreciation, but receives it best in small, sincere portions.

For years I have told him that he is important to us and definitely worth the hoopla of cake, candles and gifts. For years, he has humored me and played along, but he has only longed for the hubbub of the day to end and for the normalcy of March 4 to commence.

I normally try to find a birthday card and had pretty good luck on Valentine's, but this year I didn't even try. (Especially after my fruitless card search on our anniversary!) Honestly, I hope that these words here, might try to convey what I am thinking and feeling on this major milestone birthday.

Our marriage is special. Our relationship is unique. My husband truly is one-of-a-kind. God uses Wally to make it so. He designed me for him and him for me. He is the God of details and in His sovereignty, leaves nothing to chance or happy coincidence.

So often, I try to explain this to Wally, how I feel about him and how blessed I am to call him my husband. I want to add more descriptive words calling him my best friend and telling him that he is my favorite person to spend time with. I tell him how I trust his counsel and respect his Biblical knowledge. My feelings for him have only deepened over time and my appreciation of his hands-on approach to parenting has only grown. He truly shares the household responsibilities with me and we both often look at the other, commenting on how we are glad we are in this thing together.

Lately, as I have contemplated Wally's fulfillment of the role of husband, I realize that I don't need him to be my best friend, or my teammate. Somehow, somewhere the role of husband and dad has been cheapened in our culture and society. Whether it is the "dumb dad" stereotype in sitcoms or the emasculated, follow-the-strong-woman part many men succumb to in the relationship - there seems to be a disconnect from what a husband is Biblically supposed to be from what a husband has become.

Wally may have been a little older when we married. He has not yet been married even half of his life, but in his pursuit of Jesus, he epitomizes what I understand a Biblical husband and father to be. He loves me as Christ does. He gives up his wants and desires to see mine fulfilled. He speaks truth to my heart. He apologizes to our daughters without condition. He serves us with no task being beneath his masculinity.

The name "husband" should mean all of these things. The name and role should not be cheapened by our contemporary culture that is challenging and changing so very much.  When a Biblical worldview is skewed, then everything is up for grabs. The definition of marriage is now negotiable in certain circles and some people believe their gender can be whatever they want to identify it as. While these topics have become hot button issues in denominations and politics, the degradation of the role of husband has been much more subtle.

I appreciate the strong, quiet way Wally loves mercy, seeks justice and walks humbly with his God. He pushes back against the stereotypes in how he fulfills his manly role as a husband. Wally may always be in the minority in his generation, he may not realize how rare his faith walk truly is, and he may never realize the God-given value he invests in others by what he models.

Jokingly, I have said our daughters need to marry men that cook and iron like their daddy. But, all joking aside, Wally has set the bar incredibly high. We do pray that if it be God's will for the girls to marry, that they would marry men who understand and hold to the Biblical definition or who a husband is and what a husband does.

Wally doesn't see what the big deal is all about. He assumes that he is just doing what all "Christian" husbands do. Just like his birthday, he doesn't want to be fussed over or made much of. It isn't mock humility. It is simply who Wally is.

I get it. He is a big deal. I am thankful for his birthday today and I appreciate the opportunity to celebrate who he is and the man God is making him to be. I am blessed to be on this journey with this remarkable man. I am beyond blessed to call James Wallace Vinson, my husband.

HBD Wally. I love you so.

Blessing of Brain Battles

Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

I have always appreciated the way Wally and I could just "be" together. There doesn't have to be constant conversation or even distracting background noise. We are just comfortable with each other in the silence.

When we were first a couple, I would ask him what he was thinking about. When he would respond with, "nothing," I would find it impossible to believe. After all, in the quiet my mind had raced and rambled over at least a dozen topics and potential scenarios. It wasn't long into our relationship, when I came to accept the truth: he really can think about "nothing."

Another one of the many things that differentiates us in our marriage, is the amazing way Wally can compartmentalize his thoughts. When he's at work, he's at work. When he returns home, he can shut off work and be at home. When he's ready to relax, he does and he can think about "nothing," turning off his thoughts and not thinking. He can not stress about anything else.

On the other hand, there is me. When I am at home, I will think about what I need to do at work. When I am at work, I will think about what I need to do at home. When there could be a small window to relax, I can't because my mind is too busy thinking of all the other things that need to be done. OR - when I try to relax there is an all-too-familiar feeling of guilt, because of my inability to turn off my brain.

The internal dialogue in my mind is exhausting all by itself, but when emotions are mixed into the batter, the finished product is either burnt beyond recognition or left a soggy, raw, goopy mess.

This tendency is something I know I have passed on to my second born daughter.

I love how God gave her such passion. However, the ways her passions fluctuate are exhausting and overwhelming for her father and me. We often pine over how she must feel. For Piper, it is either the BEST day ever OR the WORST day ever - but - she can instantaneously go from one to the other and, without warning, back again. To call her "dramatic" would be an understatement. High maintenance? At times, most definitely, but never for very long. Her emotions make her complex, but because of their high intensity, we never have to wonder how she is feeling. We can simply watch how she enters the room, dragging and moaning or skipping and singing.

If I am honest, I am jealous of Wally's male mental abilities.
If I am honest, I know my emotions, while not as clearly visible as Piper's, have the same ability to rule and reign every aspect of my life.
If I am honest, I cannot deny that my jealousy and my inability to master my emotions are sinful.

Jealousy undoubtedly goes back to the 10th commandment where we are clearly told not to envy. Jealousy says that I am not satisfied with what God has given me. Jealousy proves that I feel that I deserve more.

Emotions, in and of themselves, are not bad, wrong or sinful per se, but left unchecked they can produce all kinds of havoc. My five year old had every right to be angry with my 15 year old. I couldn't fault her for that - the problem she had was that her anger ruled over her as she began to physically hit her sister in that anger. She sinned against her big sister by whaling on her. She sinned against God by giving into her anger and allowing that to be her motivation.

Like David writes in Psalm 51 - my sin is first and foremost against God. Yes, I should apologize for holding a grudge against Wally, but things can't be made right until I ask my Heavenly Father for forgiveness too.

The internal dialogue in my mind is most definitely, most of the time, a chaotic battlefield.

Thoughts that won't end. Emotions that fuel more thoughts. Satan knowing and attacking my most vulnerable insecurities. Desires to please God, but more emotions that scream of my incapabilities. Then there are hormones that demand attention. While I have never been in an actual, physical war - God's Word tells me that I am most definitely in a spiritual one. The frontline is in my brain.

However, His Word also tells me that He has won the war. With Jesus' resurrection, the final outcome has been irrevocably settled. The Good Guy won. By the faith through grace that He has given me, I have the promise of ultimate victory as well. There will be an end to the chaos in my head because He rules my heart.

The presence of His Spirit within me, is my not-so-secret weapon. I do not fight on my own strength or by my own capabilities. When I seek Him first, He illuminates Satan's lies for what they are, He throws me lifelines of truth to cling to from His Word, and He overwhelms me with the peace I so desperately need in the midst of the fight.

I am SO thankful, God didn't save me and just shrug his shoulders, say "Good luck, see you in heaven!" and walk away. Instead, He actively, intimately uses every aspect of the internal struggle within me to teach me and make me more like Jesus.

While I do envy Wally's ability to turn-it-all-off, I can and should thank God that the endless strain of stressful thoughts force me to depend upon Him. The mess of emotions compel me to dump my crazy on Him. Combined, they grow my faith, showing me that He can handle it. They truly teach me that His load is easy and His burden is light. They do all this and more.

So instead of wishing I was more like my man, I should thank God that I am not. I should appreciate this internal struggle for the many ways it grows my faith and my dependance on Him. I know I could not have learned these truths any other way.

Thank You God for internal struggle that wars within me.
Thank You God for the way it compels me to turn to You.
Thank You God for the assurance that battle will indeed end.
Thank You God for the ultimate victory to be had.

Holding On And Letting Go

Photo by Milada Vigerova

He had only been gone for 15 or so minutes when the phone rang. I had been enjoying the slow start to my Saturday and reading the news on my phone when his picture popped up. Swiping left, I answered his call. What could he had forgotten? He didn't really need anything to help the sweet church lady move into a smaller place.

I could tell instantly by the tone in his voice something wasn't quite right. His words were coming at my ears faster than I could comprehend what he was saying. "A cut . . . a china cabinet . . . I'm okay . . . headed to the ER at Exit 11 . . ."

Trying to assimilate the facts, I stammered out a question or two, still not able to ascertain what had happened. Did he want me to come? Was he sure he was "okay"? Did he think anything was broken?

I was to stay with the girls. He did not want me to come. I needed to wait. He kept saying he was okay.

About an hour and half later, he was on his way home and called again. Eight stitches. The full story - trying to clear the top of the moving van, holding the upper half of Mrs. Evans' china cabinet with the pastor, he slipped, landing on his knees, dropping the solid piece of furniture. It "just happened" to miss crushing his left-hand.

Yes, there had been a lot of blood.
No, he hadn't damaged the furniture.
Yes, it could have been a lot worse.
No, he didn't mean to get out of all the work by injuring himself on the first trip from the house to the truck.

I found myself looking at him randomly all afternoon and into the evening, silently praying, thanking God for His protection, for answering my prayers after the first phone call, and for taking care of my husband in ways I cannot.

At one point, Wally asked me why I kept looking at him "like that." My answer caught in my throat as the realization of what I was feeling bubbled to the surface. As I uttered the words, I fought to keep the hot tears from streaming down my face.

"Believe me, I am very aware that you are the exact age your older brother was when he died."

Saturday, I was faced with my very healthy husband's vulnerability, and, if I am honest, my greatest fear - that he would be taken from me.

On Sunday morning, as I stumbled from my bedroom into the kitchen to start the coffee, I had the fleeting moment when I had forgotten that my oldest daughter spent the weekend away on a church retreat. Seeing her door open and knowing that her bedroom was empty sent a numbing thought through my bleary, barely-awake brain - it wouldn't be long until I awake every morning to find her space empty. College may be a little over two years away, but they will be the fastest two years of my life.

Riley will be gone and the great responsibility to parent and disciple her will look vastly different. Right now, at least I have some kind of control and a greater influence to speak into her life-choices. As she has grown and gotten older, I have realized that she has to learn who she is and be able to make more and more decisions on her own. As she slowly stretches her wings, she has to face her own consequences for those decisions and my role her life, while it doesn't necessarily diminish, it has to change.

This is a hard truth pill to swallow.

She is not the little girl with the Star Wars fascination and collection of small lions she played with in her room. She needs me, but not in the same ways. I miss the grade-school kid she was, but I do love the young woman she is becoming too. I want to hold on to her, but I know I must let her go as well.

Holding on and letting go is a balancing act I am facing with my youngest daughter too. She is set -completely ready in every aspect possible - to start kindergarten in August. Due to the age gaps in between all three of our girls, it will be the first time in 16 years we have not had a preschooler in the house.

No more babies . . .

As I process all of these things, I realize I have to hold all of these relationships - my marriage, my three girls - in open hands before God.

To grasp onto any or all of them too tightly puts them all in the position of idols in my life. No one truly wants to be anyone's idol. What kid, or spouse for that matter, can handle that kind of pressure? Besides, that gapping place in all of us can't be filled by any one person or group of people. God put that hole in us to seek Him and find that only He can fill that void.

It's a total control issue for me. Control -mixed with my own expectations of how I think things "should" be. I continually set myself up for frustration and disappointment. When things don't go how I think they should, or if they don't respond how I think they ought to, then I am angry and even depressed. There is only One who can ultimately control the outcome and I have found Him completely worthy to trust with how things are "supposed to be."

By placing each of "my" people in outstretched, open palms, offering them to the only One who loves them more than I do - I can let them go. My faith isn't in them - their physical presence with me, or how much they need me, or any other validation I could find in them. My faith is in the One who placed them in my life.

He has plans for them. He hears my prayers for them.  He knows what is best for them. He sustains and keeps them.

He knows what is best for me too. He is using them to make me more like Jesus. He beckons me to trust Him even more with them. He sustains and keeps me too.

I'd like to say that that I have figured out this balancing act between holding on and letting go, but the way my fear washed over me Saturday and how I saddened at the sight of open door on Sunday - I know the struggle is real. I can only imagine how I will feel as the first day of school dawns and I watch my two youngest children shuffle up the stairs into the building - one her first day and the other her last first day of elementary school.

I want to believe. I say I trust Him. But my fears and insecurities betray me. Like the solider who sought Jesus to heal his daughter, I come to Him saying I believe but begging Him to help my unbelief all at the same time.

I don't know what He might ask of me in this process of sanctification. But I do know that He is good and is working good - for me and for those I love most.