Come and See: A Devotional for the Ornery Ones

Come and See: A Devotional for the Ornery Ones

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Are you looking for the perfect gift for a cowboy in your life, or are you a cowboy at heart yourself? We have just the devotional for you: Come and See: Cowboy Devotions to Strengthen Your Ride with Christ by Kevin Weatherby. Kevin is also the author of The Simplified Cowboy Version Bible Paraphrase, which is written in the words of the Old West and is designed as a Bible study tool that will make you feel like you’re “saddled up with Jesus and riding for his brand.”

In Come & See, Kevin walks readers through the gospels in a way that’s easy to understand and inspiring. Here, take a peek at an excerpt to see what we mean:

Gatherin’ Mavericks

When Jesus left there, He saw a guy named Matthew sitting at the Tax Collector’s shack.

“Come on,” He told him and Matthew left everything right there and went with Him.

Jesus went to Matthew’s house and supped with him. A lot of Matthew’s friends, mostly outlaws and politicians that were crooked, came and ate with them and Jesus’s hands. When the Religious-Know-It-Alls (Pharisees) seen this, they asked Jesus’s cowboys, “Why does your trail boss eat with outlaws and no-accounts?”

Jesus heard ’em and said, “The healthy cattle don’t need a Vet, the sick ones do. You need to head off and ponder what this means: ‘I want mercy, not sacrifice.’ Because I haven’t come to round up the gentle cattle, but I have come to gather the mavericks.”
Matthew 9:9–13

Anyone who can sit on a horse without falling off can gather cattle. All you do is take several people, get on the other side of the cattle, and push them toward the pen. But there always seems to be that one cow, or one calf (or both), that refuses to cooperate. They’ll jump fences, and many times we end up roping them. That’s something 99 percent of the world cannot do.

When first-time cowboys are asked how many cattle they gathered, they usually stick their chests out and say, “We gathered ninety-nine.”

Then, when the old hands are asked the same question, they smile and say, “Just one.”

Jesus is an old hand. Better yet, He’s the Top Hand. He didn’t come down here to trail-ride behind a bunch of compliant cattle. He came to rope and doctor the ornery ones that needed saving, not the ones headed to the gate already.

This devotional is for the ornery ones. It’s for the ones who are brushed up, and most of the time, bad-hurt by something and someone. It’s for you — the wild cowboys and cowgirls who are jumping fences or for those willing to work and care for the fence jumpers.

Either one you happen to be, I’m glad we found you.

Cowboy Call
When’s the last time you did something crazy for God? When was the last time you bucked the system and followed Jesus no matter the cost? How long will you wait before you do it again?

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Come & See: Cowboy Devotions to Strengthen Your Ride with Christ is a devotional for cowboys and country folk who want to go deeper into the truth of God’s Word. 

Immerse yourself in the timeless wisdom of Scripture, wrapped in the authenticity and passion of the cowboy way. Drawing on his own experiences as a seasoned cowboy and devout follower of Christ, author Kevin Weatherby shares powerful insights and relatable stories that will resonate with cowboys and cowgirls of all ages. From the dusty trail to the campfires glow, this devotional will be your trusted companion, guiding you toward a deeper understanding of God’s grace, His purpose for your life, and the profound peace that comes from surrendering yourself to the Almighty. 

In Come & See: Cowboy Devotions to Strengthen Your Ride with Christ, Kevin Weatherby walks readers through the gospels, translating the truth into common language for cowboys to understand and reckon with. His straightforward style and honest approach will resonate with ranchers and country folk seeking to relate to God better, dig deeper into His truth, and walk with Christ day in and day out. 

Order your copy today . . . and leave a comment below for a chance to WIN a copy*!

*Giveaway open to US addresses only and closes on 5/24/24 at 11:59 pm central.

Listen to today’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast player!

When You Keep Praying But Nothing Is Changing

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I was angry at God. There were things I had been praying for, praying about, and praying through, yet nothing seemed to be changing. Honestly, it felt like the more I prayed, the less things changed. 

I continued to pray, begrudgingly. I had faith in who God is, which is where my anger was stemming from. I knew God could change things – so why wasn’t He? 

My friends and I had been planning on going to a worship night at a church, and when the evening arrived, I tried everything I could to get out of it. I didn’t want to worship God. I didn’t want to put a bow on things and pretend all was okay.

I wanted to remain mad at Him. 

But I found myself inside a church at a worship night. Maybe God’s voice would break through the thick wall of silence I’d been encountering. Maybe I’d experience a fresh revelation. Maybe my heart would soften under the weight of His glory. 

For the first few songs, I stood with my arms crossed like a petulant teenager. Then, a song began to play about how God always remains the same. Something inside me broke as I sang.

Tears flooded down my face, and the anger that twisted inside me felt a lot like grief. 

You say You are the same yesterday, today, and forever, I prayed. I know You can move in power, I know you can change things…

I cried as I told God how I felt hurt by Him. I didn’t understand why it felt like nothing was changing, even when I knew He could change things. I still don’t understand why sometimes God says yes to some things, and says no to others.

So what do you do when nothing seems to be changing, even when you ask God to change it? 

You keep asking.

It can feel like the worst kind of answer, especially when you’re hurt by what can feel like God’s silence. But Jesus told His disciples to keep asking, to keep seeking, and to keep knocking. Jesus told His disciples stories “to show them that they should always pray and not give up.”

Even when I act like a sulky teen, in God’s incredible kindness, He keeps the invitation wide open: To keep asking. To keep coming. And the reason we keep asking and seeking and knocking and coming and crying and hoping is because God is faithful and trustworthy and always good. 

The mistake so many Christians make is praying only when we feel like it, or praying only when we feel like we’ve tidied ourselves up.

But that’s not the invitation Jesus offers. His invitation through Paul is to “never stop praying.” (1 Thessalonians 5:17 NLT). We can accept His invitation each and every day. When we are crushed with despair, we can come to Him and pour out our hearts. When our prayers are answered the way we asked, we can come to Him with hearts overflowing with gratitude and thanksgiving.

Jesus believed prayer works. In Scripture, He told His disciples over and over to keep praying. Sometimes we see the direct results of our prayer, but for many of us, we won’t understand until we come face-to-face with Jesus in eternity. Often we can’t trace how our prayers change things, but we can choose to trust in our loving Father, even when it feels impossible to understand.

Prayer isn’t about getting what we want; it’s about getting to know Jesus. When we pray, we are in the presence of our loving Father, learning more about who He is and who we are. Prayer always works because it always brings us into the life-changing presence of Jesus.

Contrary to what we might feel, prayer isn’t pointless. I don’t know why some prayers seem to be answered clearly and quickly, while others seem to go unanswered. But I do know prayer always “works” because prayer always brings us closer to Jesus — and the answer is always Jesus.

In your despair, go to Jesus. 

In your gratitude, go to Jesus. 

In your anger, go to Jesus. 

Even when it feels like nothing is changing, go to Jesus. Prayer is the only thing that keeps us steady when we are drowning, because Jesus is the only Person who can hold us firm in the midst of the ground slipping beneath our feet. 

Prayer always “works” because prayer always brings you into deeper intimacy with Jesus. 

Listen to today’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts!

4 of the Most Relief-Giving Words in the Bible

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If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help. You’ll get his help, and won’t be condescended to when you ask for it. Ask boldly, believingly, without a second thought. People who “worry their prayers” are like wind-whipped waves. Don’t think you’re going to get anything from the Master that way, adrift at sea, keeping all your options open.
James 1:5-8 The Message

These might be some of the most relief-giving words in the Bible:

“If you don’t know what you’re doing, pray to the Father. He loves to help.”

So often in life we don’t know what we’re doing! We don’t know what we’re doing with our career, with parenting a difficult child, with finding the right treatment for a daunting diagnosis. We don’t know how to help a friend understand our perspective or how to move forward from past trauma.

Today’s Scripture assures us that it’s okay not to know! Because God is here to help.

The NIV translation says it this way: “If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you” (James 1:5).

Raise your hand if you’re lacking wisdom today. Pray and ask God for what you need! He is so kind, generous, and faithful to give it. 

For Restless, Sleep-Evasive, Late-Night Hours

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Of course, “spring forward” would fall on the day you have to leave the house, fully ready for a dance competition at 5:30 a.m. You pack four costume changes in garment bags. Tuck accessories, shoes, and extra hairpins into zippered pouches. You stress-snap a few times as you now prepare for bed at an unusually early hour.

By the time your alarm goes off at 3 a.m., you’ve already been awake several times, anticipating the energy and camaraderie that these competition days are made of, yes, but first, the hour you spend with your open Bible and a present Jesus. You’re nearing the end of Mary Demuth’s book, 90-Day Bible Reading Challenge, which you could read faster, but instead your soul lingers in this sacred hour. You whisper verses out loud. Underline it all. Pause to pray and journal. Kneel in surrender.

Thing is, you’ve grown accustomed to being up early, as well as being wide awake in the middle of the night. Sleep’s been scarce ever since the first round of book proposal pitches went out. You expected rejections, but not a simultaneous diagnosis for someone you love that was praying for miraculous healing.

During this season, you’ve cried buckets all over the place — not because you were sad but because God was near. Overwhelming, glory-heavy close. You fell to your knees because you couldn’t stand. Still, you discovered how differently you know God here. You woke throughout the night with the lyrics of worship songs running through your head, as if you never turned the songs off. Repeatedly, you checked the clock to see how soon you could steal away with Jesus.

That time alone with Him before the rest of the world awoke refueled you — it was, and still is, the one thing you won’t miss.

But now, it’s been a year, and you’re still not sleeping through the night. Calling it quits on getting some shut eye if it’s after 4:30 a.m. You wonder, when you’re restless and willing yourself to sleep, sleep, sleep if anyone else is awake, and frustrated. Googling insomnia solutions. Opening Instagram.

The reasons that keep us up at night are varied and persistent: 

  • End stops (we didn’t ask for). 
  • Ampersands (that don’t make sense yet).
  • Em-dashes (with the rest unwritten). 

We worry. Replay. Pray. Formulate plans. Count sheep. Then, hours until our alarm, we scroll. 

It’s just us, we think. But it’s not. I know because, in the wee hours of the night, you’ve asked me to pray for you. You’ve texted, commented, or “liked” my posts late at night.

Although he lived long before our time, King David was also often awake during the middle of the night. I find that bit of comforting knowledge, scattered throughout the book of Psalms. David’s faith is strong, and often praised, but he’s human and he’s honest . . . and I love how relatable he is as he recounts his fears, tears, prayers, and praises.

He doesn’t mince around agony or anxiety. And he’s forthright about sleep often evading him. Here are a couple verses from a Psalm I recently read:

O Eternal One, through the night, I stop to recall Your name. That’s how I live according to Your teachings.
Psalm 119:55

In the middle of the night, I wake to thank You because Your rulings are just and right.
Psalm 119:62

What tugs at me is that David isn’t worried about becoming sleep-deprived or being awake because of worry. On the contrary, waking hours contain barely enough time and space for his burning longing to talk with, think on, and praise God.

David welcomes his sleepless nights because his soul craves more of God. This is why he can’t sleep — he simply can’t get enough.

I’ve tasted this ache just enough to know that it grows. Certainly, hunger whets desire.

One thing I know is true: There’s no end to how much of God we can access. Right in our everyday lives, with concerns big and small. David must have grasped this . . . and that is why he relentlessly sought time with God.

What if you and I couldn’t get enough of God? Maybe we’d seek Him during the day and at night when we can’t sleep.

Instead of worry, we’d turn to prayer.
Instead of our phones, we’d choose our knees.
Instead of frustration, we’d voice our praise.

So, here’s to holy expectancy. God-perspective. Sweet sleep and, when it evades us?

More of Jesus.

What Would It Look Like to Go in God’s Authority?

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Most first-generation Americans will joke and say that we were personal assistants, interpreters, and tech analysts before we could even drive. My immigrant parents often relied on my brother and me to help due to the language barrier, especially with customer service issues. So we would gather at the dining room table to make calls and send emails as a family.

One time there was a cell phone bill that came in the mail with some extra charges and my dad couldn’t get in touch with anyone over the phone. He was busy with work that week and since I was eighteen and could drive, my dad suggested that my brother and I go and talk to our service provider’s representatives at the mall. I was immediately afraid and declined his request. But he quickly reminded me that I use the cell phone the most in our family and he was content with canceling the service altogether. So I agreed to this plan, but I had a lot of hesitations.

“We are just kids, they won’t listen to us . . . and I don’t like math or know enough about all the financial stuff!” I gave him excuse after excuse to make him understand that this plan would fail.

He looked at me grinning and shook his head slowly, “Simi, they don’t know you, but they know me. Just tell them my name. I signed a contract and have an account in my name!”

In a final attempt to change his mind, I pleaded, “But what if they don’t listen to us?”

My dad replied, “Then you tell them: My dad is coming!”

It was like an epic moment from a Bollywood movie, but then my brother and I ruined it by laughing at my dad for being so dramatic.

It makes me think of Moses.

Moses stood before a burning bush with excuse after excuse not to go to Pharaoh and make the big ask, “Let my people go!” He didn’t feel ready or adequate. He didn’t necessarily feel like that was his role to play. God listened to all of his excuses, and like my dad, He told Moses to go anyway.

Moses said to God, “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?”

God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’”
Exodus 3: 13-14 NIV

This was God’s way of reminding Moses:

You are not going on your authority but Mine. You are not going as a mere man, you are going as My representative and My mouthpiece. Your credentials won’t get you into the door but My power will let them know I am with you.

Often when God calls us to something big we feel too small to carry it out. We shy away from opportunities, conversations, and tables where God invites us to go because we don’t feel equipped. But if He calls you, you are not going in your own strength, wisdom, or authority. You are going in His name and He is with you.

I laughed at my dad that day because to me he was just my dad, familiar in every way, and I didn’t understand his authority to speak to the phone company. I think as children of God, we fall prey to this trap too. We are so familiar with God that we forget His authority.

When God told Moses to go in My power and in My name, Moses didn’t fully grasp it, much like us. He was hesitant. But God showed Moses His authority is sufficient. (Read the whole wild account in Exodus 3-14 for an undeniable picture of God’s power.)

We may not understand it fully, but demons tremble at His name, seas part at His name, giants fall at His name, and the dead are made alive in His name.

Today you may be hesitant but friend, recognize that God’s power is enough to see you through. Speak His name. Say it louder. You may feel small, but your God is big and He is with you.

Listen to Simi’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts!


Finding Joy in Unexpected Places (It’s Easier Than You Think)

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I gripped my stomach as ripples of humor turned into roars that opened my mouth wide, and squeezed tears out my eyes and down my cheeks. Laughter triggered by seemingly insignificant causes… simple phrases, witty placement of words, the processes that we as women all go through that we may cry about in the moments of their happening, but laugh about as we look back.

I could barely catch my breath, or catch up with the overwhelming need to release all that had apparently been pent up inside me the last several months. I could not remember the last time I had laughed so deeply or loudly.

The very act of laughing until I couldn’t breathe brought unexpected healing to me. 

“A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.”
Proverbs 17:22 NIV

On the surface, it didn’t make sense; I sat at a table with women I had just met. Yet in that space, the permission to venture into authentic community had been laid out like the most lush of red carpets. It was an invitation to walk freely into the room, not shielding part of me in fear, but bringing all of my quirks, experiences, nerves, and needs to the table. 

When I got on the plane to attend the (in)courage retreat, I didn’t know that as I stepped foot on the ground — even amid the hard things we carried — I would step into a group that cultivated joy. 

It’s not that joy and laughter had been far from me, but perhaps these feelings had been so weighed down by so much over these past few years that I hadn’t given myself permission to lean in. 

A few years ago, my husband mentioned that I wasn’t as silly as I used to be. I actually didn’t get offended at that moment, which might’ve been my propensity early on in our marriage. Instead, I sat and chewed on his words. Over the years a part of me had taken a back seat to fear. The part of me that used to dance down the hallway of the church or react enthusiastically. But over time my enthusiasm was met with a side eye from others until those side glances lanced my heart and compelled me to simmer down. 

I wonder how often we hinder our joy response because the place we reside has not welcomed it. Joy is not always represented by cackles and roars of exuberant laughter. Joy may show up in the permission to sit silently, to not have to say a word, to just soak in. It may be found indulging in that treat you love, participating in the nerdy activity that you geek out over, or in the favorite book that you’ve read 100 times. 

Joy just might be found as you finally schedule that girls’ night, go on the date with your husband that you’ve been putting off so long, or maybe lie on the floor, set your to-do list aside, and build a Lego castle with your kids. (At least there will be less to step on, right?) Perhaps joy is engaging in a snowball fight with your neighbors, going on a much-needed walk, or lying down for that much-needed nap.

Joy just might be found when you release whatever you’re gripping and remember that you’ve already been found. And then you can decide that if there’s not a safe place to engage in Christ-centered joy, you can give yourself permission to form it for yourself. In doing so, you’ll lay a path for others as you press forward into joy too.

Maybe what is ahead of you in this season is not so much about what you will see or do, but about God wanting to see you, His daughter, flourishing. 

“The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”
Zephaniah 3:17 NIV

Consider how much He desires for you to embrace the innate delight that comes from being His. You are the daughter God intentionally and uniquely formed, and He rejoices extravagantly over you.

In what ways has God positioned you to respond in exuberant extravagance too?  

Listen to today’s devotion below or wherever you stream podcasts!

The Sloppiness and Surprise of Spring

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I am not a fan of the spring season, for a few reasons.

First, here in Minnesota, spring is sloppy. It doesn’t look like the bright, flowery, fresh springtimes depicted in storybooks or TV shows. Here, the snow is just now melting, the earth is tamped down and wet with mud abounding. Forget blooming flowers and fresh air and bright sunshine; we get dreary damp days and cold soggy nights. Our flowers don’t begin to blossom until long after much of the rest of our country, very near the start of summer. We can’t plant our gardens until well past when some of my friends have already harvested their spring lettuces. Around here we don’t plant until after Memorial Day weekend. It could still snow, you know!

Spring means my mudroom is full. Loaded up with winter parkas, raincoats, and fleece jackets. Rainboots and winter boots, tennis shoes and flip-flops. Dirt and dust are par for the course, along with hats and mittens that badly need a washing. You never know what you’ll need for the weather, so we keep it all at the ready. . . which equates to one full mudroom.

Spring also signals the transition to summer, which means heat and humidity are on their way. Not my favorite. Sure, I do enjoy some aspects of summer (swimming, tending the garden, patio dining, evening walks, and the ease of no coats necessary) but even so, it’s just not my favorite.

Despite all that I grumble about during spring, there is one thing I adore. Since we moved into our home nearly eight years ago, I’ve kept an eye on the rock beds surrounding our front lawn for the first signs of spring. And each year, my hosta burst through the ground, reaching for the sky. They take their sweet time filling out and spilling large into the beds, taking up grand amounts of space they know belongs to them.

I don’t have fancy varieties or do anything special. They were here long before we moved in. We did divide and replant some from their original spots, but that’s it. I do nothing, and every year they bring me such joy. Our house needs a repaint, so we’re really in our beige era, and the pop of bright green that the hosta provides is such a breath of fresh air after a fall and winter of brown.

And isn’t that just like the goodness and grace of God?

Goodness and grace that we do nothing to earn. That we’ve done nothing to deserve. That brightens our day and brings us joy and offers us a moment to breathe deeply, thankful.

In the icy sloppiness of spring, new life bursts through right on time, as if by clockwork. Just when I don’t think I can take one more gray day, a fresh shoot springs up through the rock. Right when I’m convinced that I won’t make it to summer, that the trees will never return to their green leafy glory. . . those hostas pop up and begin their slow unfurling.

And every year I’m surprised. Taken right aback. I never expect the good thing to happen, gaslighting myself that I’ve made it all up and this will be the year it doesn’t happen.

Oh, how He is faithful in our deep-rooted doubting.

When we doubt that His glory could be real, that His story happened, that He makes us new and whole and scrubbed clean, even the hostas declare the Truth.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”
2 Corinthians 5:17 NIV

“See, I will create new heavens and a new earth. . . “
Isaiah 65:17 NIV

If the hostas can be neglected and dormant for months and months, then rise up on their own at just the right time, we just might be ok too.

Hang in there. Goodness may surprise you, right there in the sloppiness.

Listen to today’s devotion on the player below or your favorite podcast app!

(And be sure to subscribe on Apple, Spotify, or wherever you listen so you don’t miss a morning of encouragement!)

How to Find the Courage to Face Yourself

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In the heat of my single motherhood journey, a rare gift was bestowed upon me — an entire summer off. My son embarked on a Floridian adventure with his grandfather, opening the door to weeks of freedom and tranquility. As the countdown began, I envisioned a life of peace, rest, and rediscovery. Little did I know, that those two months would unravel a profound transformation, bringing me face to face with myself. 

The initial days were not the “carefree” oasis I had imagined. Instead, a sense of unease settled in, leading me down a path of unexpected introspection. The quiet exposed the neglected corners of my soul that echoed with unheard cries of grief, unhealed wounds, and unresolved breakups. Buried beneath the layers of motherhood and ministry, my self-esteem had been masked and, for the first time, I had only myself to care for — a daunting realization. 

In the silence, I discovered my struggles and the pain that I had evaded through a bustling, active lifestyle. The freedom I longed for soon transformed into an unexpected encounter with a dark depression. The stillness allowed my soul to speak, and it spoke of aching wounds that demanded attention. 

Dark days followed, marked by reckless and self-destructive behaviors — drinking, smoking, and seeking refuge in unsavory company. The absence of external noise compelled me to create my own, drowning out the uncomfortable truth that awaited me.

This was the realization that I was afraid to confront — a fear that the woman I had curated was no longer recognizable.

In that moment of vulnerability, I chose to unbox my experiences, to delve into the difficult, unpleasant moments that had unraveled my created identity and distorted my perception of God. It was a journey of rediscovery that required the courage to face myself. Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12:9 echoed in my heart, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

To unbox means to unpack . . . to unfold the layers of our experiences, both painful and joyous. The pivotal lesson I learned is that God’s grace is the key to finding courage in vulnerability. It is in facing our weaknesses that His power dwells within us. Just as Paul boasted in his weaknesses, I learned to embrace the broken pieces of my story as opportunities for divine transformation. 

I realized that vulnerability is not a one-time act but an ongoing process. The layers of my experiences unfolded to reveal not only pain but also moments of profound joy, shaping me into the woman I am today. God’s grace, I discovered, isn’t merely a balm for wounds but a catalyst for divine transformation.

In the quiet surrender to vulnerability, I encountered a profound truth: facing our weaknesses isn’t a sign of defeat but a gateway to God’s power dwelling within us. It’s a paradoxical dance where our brokenness becomes the canvas for His strength to shine brilliantly.  

As we navigate the ongoing journey of unboxing grace, it’s crucial to recognize the need for pauses and intentional repositioning. The clarity gained through vulnerability empowers us to choose wisely amidst life’s unpredictable moments. It becomes a lens through which we see not only the brokenness but the beauty that emerges from the fragments of our stories.

So, dear sister, I invite you to join me on this journey of unboxing grace. Allow the silence to reveal the whispers of your soul and, with God’s grace, find the courage to face yourself. Embrace the transformative power that comes when we lay bare our vulnerabilities before the Creator, confident that His grace is, indeed, sufficient for every unboxing moment. 

Listen to today’s devotion on the player below or where you stream podcasts.

This Is My Immeasurably More

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I wake up and stretch my legs under the high-thread-count sheets. The luxury cotton feels good on my slightly sore muscles, a reminder of yesterday’s five-and-a-half-mile trek along the lake. The cabin is quiet. I tip-toe upstairs to the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea. It’s nice to warm my hands on a hot cup in the chilly mountain air.

Back in my bottom-floor room, I open the blinds to reveal early morning blue skies and a glimpse of deep water in the distance. But the trees are still my favorite. Towering pines dot the view, a reminder that the best things grow slowly with wide branches and deep roots.

It would have been nice to sleep in on this rare morning away from the demands of school schedules and hungry boys. But I’m now the kind of “old” that apparently can’t turn off my internal clock.

My eyes are bleary and I keep yawning. Yet I admit I’ve learned to love the early hours. The joy of being still. Quiet. Not rushing into the day ahead but savoring what is and expectantly waiting for what is to come. Plus it’s easy to linger without someone asking for socks or sandwiches.

So I linger in the Word and with the Word.  

Soon my heart turns to gratitude. Thanksgiving overflows. I’m spending the weekend in Lake Arrowhead with three of my dearest friends. It’s Kyan’s 40th birthday and her husband arranged for us to celebrate in a family friend’s gorgeous home. Four bedrooms for the four of us. A beautifully appointed kitchen and ample room to relax. Walking distance to the village and the lake.

It’s a gift for Kyan – but it’s a gift to us all.

I smile thinking about the slow morning we enjoyed the day before around the table, sharing hearts and stories and Ky’s amazing cinnamon rolls. I smile thinking about the conversation and laughter that accompanied us on our long walk along the lake — the freedom to be silly or serious, chatty or chill. I smile thinking about the tender afternoon tears shed and the encouragement given, friends who see and are willing to be seen.

I almost laugh out loud recalling how we ended the evening with ridiculous facemasks sticking awkwardly to our foreheads, cheeks, and lips like wet old-man skin. I almost peed my sweatpants it was so funny.

How freeing to be in the company of true friends.

The magnitude of the gift is not lost on me.

I gaze out the window and up at the evergreens. The words of Ephesians 3:20 (NIV) bubble up in my heart: “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine…”, and with this promise, a memory.

The pine needles ripple in the breeze and I think back fifteen years. I remember being a new mom in a new city. I remember loving my baby boy and yet feeling swallowed by loneliness. I feel the memory of how quickly baby boy number two, then three, crashed onto the scene and how the relentless days and exhausting nights and pervasive loneliness nearly crushed me.

I remember how I cried out to God… over and over, again and again… Just give me one real friend.

Now I’m the mom of teens, with body aches and eye wrinkles and the best friends a girl could ask for.

Kyan, Kimberlee, and Sara are my immeasurable more, I say to God.

Truly, I could not have imagined such friends.

Then like a movie montage, the last decade flashes in my mind and I see hundreds of moments stitched together in a tapestry of God’s faithfulness. The first time we met at a mom’s group. A neighborhood walk pushing strollers. A muddy backyard playdate. The first time we had dinner. A summer book club. Serving together on a ministry team. Celebrating birthdays and graduations and births. Mourning aging parents and job losses and health scares. Swapping childcare and sourdough starters.

Hours and hours and hours over years and years and years of life together.

Yes, this is often how God answers prayers.

And now I am keenly aware of the sheer grace and goodness of God’s abundant faithfulness after years of loneliness and desperate tear-filled pleas.

This I know: God is the same God in my dreamy girls’ weekend away as He was in my sadness and solitude. God is the same God in our abundance as He is in our lack. It’s quite a truth to wrestle with.

Today I see so much beauty and purpose in the slow answering of my good desire for good friends. Though at the time, the stitch-by-stitch unfurling of God’s faithfulness was often too incremental to see, too slow for my comfort.

But now? Now I wouldn’t trade His intentional weaving for anything.

I hear the shuffle of feet above me. Sara must be up and about to go on her morning run. Surely Kimber and Ky will be awake soon and ready for coffee. I’ll put a pot on.

But first I wonder where else in my life and yours does the slow stitching of answered prayers seem like no answer at all? Where does loneliness feel heavy and community impossible? Where are we tempted to give up hope that God has heard our pleas and cares enough to respond?

This morning in the mountains is one of my Ebenezer stones, a reminder that God is always, always listening, and always, always still writing the story.

For more stories of God’s faithfulness, follow Becky on Instagram @beckykeife.

Listen to today’s devotion on the player below or where you stream podcasts.

The Comfort You Need on Mother’s Day

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“As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.”
Isaiah 66:13 NIV

We know this day is a complex one, full of many emotions and experiences. You are not alone.

Your (in)courage sisters are praying for each of you today as you remember, celebrate, grieve, or enjoy motherhood and what that means to you. Every single woman who loves, encourages, nurtures, and releases those who become part of the next generation is doing amazing work and is worth celebrating today.

We pray you feel seen by God and folded into His arms of love. No matter what this day means to you, whether your expectations are met with joy or you feel the ache of disappointment, may His comfort wrap around you.

Happy Mother’s Day. Thank you for all that you are and all that you do.

When You’re Struggling While Running the Race of Life

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Last fall, after a two-year hiatus from running, I woke up on a sunny morning and laced up my sneakers.

I made my way to the track, brimming with optimism and an updated playlist for running. The sun’s rays beamed down on me, providing an extra layer of warmth. I felt a surge of energy as my feet hit the pavement. Anticipation and excitement simmered within as I reminisced about my running days in Illinois, and how much I missed them.

You got this! The voice of hope whispered. Yeah. I got this! I whispered back.

But my motivational pep talk waned as I forged ahead, panting and nearly gasping for air. Labored breathing. Racing heartbeat. Tight chest. Time to stop. My eyes widened when I checked my stopwatch.

Forty-five seconds? What a disappointment! What a waste of time! You’re never going to be able to run like before.

And, just like that, I allowed pessimism to replace the voice of hope. I trudged to my car, sulking and deeply disappointed. (Confession: I may have stopped by Dunkin’ Donuts on the way home to rid the bitter aftertaste of failure with a sweet treat.)

On the drive home, I expressed my disappointment and frustration to God, wondering how it was possible that I could fail this attempt at running when, just earlier that week, I dreamt I was effortlessly running around an outdoor track.

Still, I woke up with a renewed hope that I’d return to my former days — regularly running three miles, finishing my first 8K, completing my longest run at 12 miles, and training for the Chicago marathon. But all that changed when COVID-19 (then followed by long-COVID) symptoms brought my running to a halt in 2021.

I hung up my running shoes, but still told myself I’d get back there one day. I even told my friend that I would speak it by faith. I wrote the declaration in my prayer journal, though I didn’t fully believe it in my heart. I know the Bible says “faith without works is dead,” yet, still, I had tucked my sneakers into the back of the closet, watching them accumulate dust, week after week. This thing that I once enjoyed had become too daunting — the process felt like starting over. And, let’s be honest, beginning again isn’t always fun. Instead, it feels like a glaring reminder of suboptimal circumstances — a reality we never asked for.

Starting over in any area of our lives can feel overwhelming, but, truly, we don’t ever really restart from scratch because the experience, knowledge, and wisdom gained on our journey will always propel us on our journey.

Starting over is a courageous act that requires faith — and it’s okay to begin again. Sometimes, it’s even necessary.

I was reminded of this when I joined a running club recently and selected the beginner group. During the one-minute running intervals, I struggled to silence the critical voice about my slow pace. I silently prayed for God to help me. I didn’t want to focus on how I felt . . . I needed a fresh perspective.  

After pushing myself to sprint uphill for the last minute of our session, the running coach sidled up beside me and complimented my form, saying, “I can see you as a long distance runner. Just be patient. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself and risk injury. You’ll get there soon enough.”

Her comment snapped me out of my trance. Though I was fixated on my current pace, she looked beyond and saw a long-distance runner. Her words challenged me. Why was I rushing the process? My coach saw my potential from afar — and I needed to do the same. I needed to believe that I could build endurance and increase my stamina.

I needed to extend grace to myself.

That’s how our Creator sees His children. God doesn’t hold us hostage to our past or compare who we are today to who we were yesterday. God sees us as the person He created us to be before He laid the foundations of the earth. He sees us ahead of time.

When we’re struggling while running the race of life, barely catching our breath, winded while climbing steep hills, God never changes His mind about us based on our performance. He is our Ultimate Coach — strengthening our feeble arms for the journey, propelling us forward through fatigue, quenching our thirst, and nourishing our weary souls.

When life happens and we want to give up, He reminds us who we are from His lens. We just need to trust the Coach and exercise patience with ourselves during the process — even if it means beginning again.  

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40:31

Simple Steps When Rest Feels Out of Reach

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Two weeks ago, I found myself on a beach. I sat on the sand, ordered tacos, and listened to the melody of my friends’ laughter punctuated by the crash of the nearby waves. I thanked God and cracked jokes and closed my eyes and wondered . . .

First of all, what even was my life? But also . . . why was I still so tired?

The weekend after I returned from the (in)courage writers’ retreat, I spent most of one day lying on the couch and watching TV. Then I spent several hours the next day napping, followed up with several hours giving myself a guilt trip.

I’d just returned from three days in paradise, so how could I still be tired?

My soul was certainly refreshed, so why couldn’t I handle “real life” any better than before my trip?

I had some time off and now I had so much to do. What was I doing lying around like this?

I asked myself these loaded questions and more, even though I knew . . .

I knew that I’d barely had a spare minute the past two months, that I’d spent every lunch break making appointments and filling out forms, that I’d worked weekends to make up for those appointments during the week, that this season was just the garbage frosting on a garbage cupcake of several months of constant crisis.

I also remembered the words of a recent counseling session about our need to take regular breaks to bolster and protect our mental health and, therefore, our ability to handle life’s challenges. But the unfortunate truth is that one vacation doesn’t fill our tank for the rest of the year or, depending on your current situation, even for the rest of the month.

It’s almost like we need a rhythm of frequent rest to handle what comes at us day after day.

And we know this, don’t we? We know that God rested (Genesis 2:1-3) and Jesus napped (Luke 8:23). We know we’re called to observe a regular Sabbath, a time set apart for rest and worship (Exodus 20:8-11). So why is it so hard?

Well, sometimes taking a Sabbath is hard because of logistics. We have seasons where it truly feels impossible to carve out a whole day (much less a long weekend or full week) to rest. Sometimes we feel guilty for taking any break at all, knowing just how many items have not been crossed off our lists or how many people “have it worse.” And sometimes we know that if we let down our guard, if we listen for the voice of the Lord, if we take a breath deep enough to fill our lungs, we’re going to break down for a good, long while. And we do not have time for that. So we keep going.

We tell ourselves rest is optional or we haven’t earned it yet or this is just how this season is. And we dig deep into an empty well and attempt to bolster our defenses for one more day.

We just keep going. We keep going until we break.

But, friends, Scripture tells us it doesn’t have to be this way! We don’t have to grit our teeth, clench our fists, and force ourselves forward without a drop of fuel. And we don’t have to feel guilty for needing the rest God took Himself and instructed us to take as well.

“There is a special rest still waiting for the people of God. For all who have entered into God’s rest have rested from their labors, just as God did after creating the world. So let us do our best to enter that rest.“
Hebrews 4:9-11 NLT

How can we do our best to enter that rest? Well, the things that truly replenish your body and soul may vary. But I think we all must start in the same place.

To experience Sabbath, no matter our season or situation, we must first admit that we need it and then give ourselves grace for that need. It’s okay that you’re human! If you’re holding yourself hostage over the belief that you should be superhuman and above needing regular rest, stop it. Accept the freedom and compassion God offered when He created Sabbath in the first place. Receive the rest Jesus promised when He invited all those who are weary and burdened to take on His light yoke instead of the one weighing us down (Matthew 11:28-30).

And then, right where we are, in our real, messy, tiring lives, we need to pause. Relax, reflect, and rest.

Let your to-do list take a break and listen for God. Breathe. Sleep. Soak up the refreshment you need to connect with the Lord and with yourself before returning to your day, your home, your life.

For me, I enter the rest God offers — even in the most hectic, hard seasons — by listening to my Bible app, by snuggling with my sleepy daughter before jumping in the shower each morning, and by taking the long way home along a back road. I receive rest by blocking out distractions when I take communion at church — and protecting my Sunday afternoon nap with a ferocity my family laughs at but respects.

For you, it might be a morning cup of coffee and a favorite devotional, an hour alone in Target, an afternoon hike, or something nobody else would even think of! True rest and the sacred practice of Sabbath take many forms, but each is a gift from our heavenly Father.

How will you enter His rest today?

Listen to today’s devotion below or on your favorite podcast app.

The Gift of “I Don’t Know”

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One of the first times I went to Sunday school, it was a random visit. I’d never been, and as I joined a few other pre-teens around a small table, someone handed me a Bible. I’d never read the Bible before that point, and I don’t remember what we read or what anyone said that morning. I can’t remember a single word. All I remember was not knowing how to find the book and verses we were supposed to turn to. What I remember most was how it felt to not know what was going on.

I never went back to Sunday school after that, even when my family sporadically attended that church during the time we lived nearby.

Years later, I would still carry that feeling around, even after becoming a follower of Jesus, even after becoming more familiar with faith communities and how to navigate the Bible. After all those years, I was still afraid of being found out — that everyone would discover how much I still didn’t know. Despite how committed I was to Jesus, and how much I thought I knew that Jesus loved me, I was afraid of other Christians and what they knew that I didn’t.

I was afraid of all the invisible lines I often felt in Christian circles – and the inside jokes I still didn’t understand.

It’s been decades since then, and in that time, I’ve worked in vocational ministry and left vocational ministry. I’ve been part of a handful of churches near and far from where I call home today. I know most of the things I didn’t understand all those years ago, but I never want to forget what it felt like to sweat in my seat and feel small, clueless, and so far on the outside. In fact, sometimes I look back and see a sweetness to that unknowing. I was so ready to know Jesus’s love; I had no idea then that receiving Jesus’s love had nothing to do with how many Bible verses or inside jokes I knew, or what issues of the day I was supposed to be on one side of instead of the other.

Knowing what it feels like to be on the outside has given me an incredible guide to hospitality – more than any Bible study, event, or ministry ever could.

Not knowing much about how to be a Christian has helped me receive and rely on Jesus’s love in a way that “knowing it all” never could. Sometimes “knowing it all” can be a barrier to Jesus’s love.

In our age of non-stop information, the temptation to know all the things and profess what we know is heavy. I feel a constant pull towards this posture and I see it everywhere I turn, from my own family’s dinner table conversations to conversations in the larger community I live in.

What would it look like to model “not knowing?” What would it look like to relate to others while always keeping Maya Angelou’s wise words in mind, “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”?

In a culture obsessed with how-tos and telling others what to do, and in a society obsessed with accolades, levels, awards, and markers of “intelligence,” what would it look like if we lived with deep concern and care for how we made others feel, instead of concern over what we know and who knows more? How could that posture change the atmosphere around our dinner tables, in our classrooms, at the office, on Zoom screens, or in our churches and neighborhoods?

May it be so in my life and yours!

These days, I try to say “I don’t know” as often as I can. And I’ve been praying, “I don’t know” about an ongoing challenge for some time now. And while sometimes I’m bone-weary and angry about it and wish God would show up and answer so I could know why and how and what to do… I’ve been given comfort and presence and room for faith to stretch and grow in God’s nearness in a way that quick solutions and answers could not offer me.

For the longest time, I would look back on that first Sunday school experience and think, “If only I’d known more about the Bible,” or, “If only my parents (or fill in the blank) had explained more or prepared me better, then I wouldn’t have felt so embarrassed or alone in not knowing.” I would focus on how it could’ve been different and how I could’ve blended in better, instead of seeing what not knowing had given me.

Now I know how much of a treasure and compassion-builder it can be to say and pray, “I don’t know.”

I love Jesus’s words to the disciples who were arguing about who was the greatest in the Kingdom of God:

“At about the same time, the disciples came to Jesus asking, “Who gets the highest rank in God’s kingdom?”

For an answer Jesus called over a child, whom he stood in the middle of the room, and said, “I’m telling you, once and for all, that unless you return to square one and start over like children, you’re not even going to get a look at the kingdom, let alone get in. Whoever becomes simple and elemental again, like this child, will rank high in God’s kingdom. What’s more, when you receive the childlike on my account, it’s the same as receiving me.”
Matthew 18:1-5 The Message

Not knowing might be hard and it can be incredibly lonely. It might also be just the teacher that shows us how to love deeply and how to recognize the face of Love itself.

Listen to today’s devotion on the player below or on your favorite podcast app!

 

God Won’t Make You Do Burpees, But He Will Do This

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A few times every week, I make my way to the gym.

Depending on the workout, there are times afterward when I can barely get up from the toilet due to aching muscles. Other times, my shaky T-rex arms can’t retrieve a glass from the cupboard, to which my unsympathetic coach responds: “But did you DIE?”

No, I did not die. And yes, the thing that sometimes gets me up in the morning is knowing that my workout will support my queso habit. 

In all honesty, I’m not much of an “athlete.” When I first started working out, I didn’t know what a “burpee” was. I thought it was the sound one makes after a satisfying meal. (It turns out that a burpee is a move that combines a jump, a squat, and a push-up.) Power cleans? That’s a weight-lifting move, but it sounded more like what I do to whip my house into shape before guests come over.

But here I am, years later, still showing up for a legalized form of bodily torture.

(I exaggerate. Sort of.) 

To be candid with you, I used to work out because I wanted to look better in my swimsuit. These days? I work out because I want to do a favor for my future self. I want Future Me to be able to move freely and enjoy a life of physical flexibility. 

In case you are wondering, we at (in)courage did not just morph into a fitness website overnight. I’m sharing this story with you today for a reason: this kind of approach works for our faith lives as well.

Everything you do today to build your faith muscles pays dividends down the road for Future You. You are strengthening your future self through all you do to connect with God.

Every conversation with Him.
Every minute spent in His Word.
Every verse memorized.
Every worshipful act.

It all adds up.

I call it “resourced faith.” It’s like building muscle in a workout. When you build up your faith in the best of times, you have resources of faith to draw from in the most turbulent of times.

That’s true not only when you’re in your 20s and 30s. It’s also true when you’re in your 80s and 90s. Those faith muscles you built years earlier give you needed strength later on. If you’ve ever visited a nursing home, and watched what happens when an old hymn is played, or a familiar Bible verse is read, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Biblical David had a resourced faith like that. He had been growing in relationship with God since he was a child. His faith helped him when he took on Goliath with a sling and a few small stones. And it helped him years down the road when he was running for his life, hiding in caves, and trying to stay one step ahead of his enemies.

In the Psalms, David kept building his faith muscles, kept crying out to God, kept writing down the promises of God.

And when he was old and frail, David remained steadfast. His last words are recorded in 2 Samuel 23:1-7. One last time, he shared the truth about who God is. Here’s part of what he said:

“Is it not my family God has chosen?
Yes, he has made an everlasting covenant with me.
His agreement is arranged and guaranteed in every detail.
He will ensure my safety and success.”
2 Samuel 23:5 NLT

In the end, David could die with peace, knowing God was in control. David’s resourced faith – built over time – sustained David in seasons of trial.

The same can be true for us.

The good news is, it’s never too late to start. Like the best kind of coach, God will meet you where you are, and help you build your faith muscle from there.

Another bit of good news? He won’t make you do burpees.

Listen to today’s article below or wherever you stream podcasts.

This Will Help You See God in Every Season

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For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under the sun.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV

I live in Minnesota, usually thought of and referred to as a frozen tundra. Which is entirely accurate for about half the year. But truly, this is the land of four distinct seasons. Our summer, autumn, winter, and spring seasons are each beautiful in their own unique ways, and living here for them all helps me see the Lord.

Summer here is hot. Humid. The bugs come out (especially the dang mosquitos) but so do the birds. Loons can be heard calling sweet and strong across our many enormous lakes. In the summer people flock “up north” to cabin country, gather in backyards for cookouts and bonfires, and meet up in neighborhood parks and pools. The sun sets glorious, the sun rises early, and the days between are sticky with heat and melted popsicles.

Autumn blazes a trail of glory in the now red and orange forests of maple, birch, oak, and elm. The early morning sparkling drops of dew return to still-green blades of grass when the air turns chilly again. Sweaters make their return, pumpkins sit on porches, and orchards open for apple picking. We pray for the harvest and the farmers, rake leaves off lawns, and relish in the return to school and routine. Some of us also rejoice at the return of pumpkin spice everything. 😉

Winter here can be harsh, but it can also be beautiful. I, for one, love it. The bite of the wind, faced while wearing a parka, boots, mittens, and a knit hat. The crunch and glitter of freshly fallen snow. Hot cocoa and lit fireplaces, shoveling each others’ driveways, and kids building snowmen and sledding the day away.

Spring is a welcome respite from the bitter winter, with warmth returning to the undercurrents of the breeze. Annuals and planted bulbs burst through dull earth, and everything seems to sigh as it thaws. Blossoms open slowly on flowering trees, rain washes away the dust and refreshes the gardens, and we pull on galoshes and raincoats to stay dry. The sun seems to shine a little brighter, warming front porches and our hearts.

His glory is on display in each and every season — if we just remember to look for it. And when we look, when our eyes stay open to seeking His glory, we remember that Jesus came for us all — all the time. In the grey days of November. In the summer heat of August. In the slushiness of March and the blossoms of May. When we’re looking for Him and when we’re running from Him. When our hearts are soft and open, and when they’re hard and closed.

In all seasons of the year and of our lives, Jesus comes for us. He welcomes us wholly at any time, in any space, in all of our seasons.

Be reminded that you can see the Lord in all seasons with our brand new(in)courage Seeing God in Every Season 18-Month Agenda Planner!This planner provides the classic DaySpring planner features, including a durable laminated cover and tabs, a lay-flat design with continuous spiral, an interior pocket page, and generous space for noting your plans. Ooh, and we LOVE the checkboxes on the weekly lined pages!

The notes section will help you write down quick thoughts to come back to, the fresh and beautifully designed tear-out prayer cards will encourage your heart (or the heart of a friend!), and three pages of adorable stickers you can write on to help personalize your planner with extra color and joy!

In addition to those fantastic features, each month of our planner also includes a story from (in)courage! Yep, each week has a Scripture to focus on, and every month includes a selection from a story by an (in)courage writer, sharing what God was up to in her life and heart during that particular season.

You can scan the QR code beside each excerpt or visit incourage.me/everyseasonto read the full devotions! But here, we’ll give you a sneak peek:

JULY : If God cares so wonderfully for flowers… He will certainly care for you. Luke 12:28 NLT

That day, a bouquet of July ditch flowers was my teacher. I needed to re-learn something I had re-forgotten: God uses ordinary things to show us His extraordinary kindness. – Jennifer Dukes Lee

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SEPTEMBER: I thank my God every time I remember you. Philippians 1:3 NIV

Teachers are amazing, imperfect, profoundly important people — who need our prayers. “Bless this school year and bless each person who wears the beautiful and noble badge of Teacher. Amen.” – Becky Keife

—

NOVEMBER: I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds. Psalm 9:1 NIV

November is the perfect in-between month. A time to prepare and putter in the kitchen. A time to gather in and come together. A time of expectation of what’s yet to come and thankfulness for what has been. – Anna E. Rendell

This new 18-Month Agenda Planner will truly help you embrace each season. The pages will meet you right in the middle of your busy schedule with encouragement, truth from God’s Word, and space to keep you organized.

AND for a limited time (just two more days), buy the planner and receive a Gold Prayer Board Snap-In Planner Accessory for FREE! The perfect combination for staying organized and inspired this year!

The (in)courage 2024-25 Planner Features:

  • Spiral bound, lay-flat design, laminated cover
  • 3 pages of super-cute stickers
  • 6 perforated tear-out notes to share hope
  • Weekly Scripture to focus on during your quiet time
  • Monthly devotion by an (in)courage writer
  • 18-month planner (July 2024 – December 2025), 248 pages

Get your new planner + FREE prayer board today!

Listen to today’s article at the player below or wherever you stream podcasts.

Grieving What’s to Come While Still Living in the Present

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She sits before me in the teal velvet chair in my bathroom. Methodically, I separate her thick hair — the color of the night sky — into sections. I pin the top half up so I can begin curling the bottom layers.

My fingers fly, winding each smaller section of hair around the curling wand. I let it sit just until it steams a bit. Then I let it go, releasing gently. A springy curl bounces before me.

Separate, curl, release, repeat.

My bedroom is brimming with laughter as half a dozen girls get ready for their Senior Prom. In another chair, one girl is getting her makeup done by a different friend while she chats with my daughter. A couple of girls sit in the corner, catching up near the charcuterie board piled with savory and sweet snacks. Taylor Swift is playing in the background, singing something about holding onto memories and never growing up.

My eyes linger over my oldest girl’s face. Her smooth skin is like a chai latte with those freckles adding just the right spoonful of spice to her creamy brown cheeks. Her midnight eyebrows make a dramatic swoop at the corners, framing her cinnamon eyes.

Suddenly, I’m transported back. I’m holding that newborn baby girl to my breast, tracing her eyebrows with my gaze. Tears stream down my cheeks. Maybe it’s the post-partum hormones, but I can’t help myself. My heart races as I think about bringing a beautiful baby girl into the cruel and often unforgiving world.

What will be her challenges? What heartaches will she face? Will I be able to protect her, love her, raise her as my heart desires?

My heart fills with emotion like an ocean wave — swelling, swirling, and unabashedly spilling into a new season called mothering. I’m at once rejoicing and terrified, teetering with trepidation at the prospect of it all.

That was 17 years ago. And this month, that baby girl is graduating from high school. Time wrinkles and folds. Just yesterday I was nursing her and now she needs me to curl her hair for the prom. In just a few months, she will be leaving for college on the other side of the state.

When my husband was diagnosed with cancer at this time 10 years ago, I experienced something I didn’t have language for then. I now know it was anticipatory grief. These are feelings of grief that happen before a loss actually occurs.

When we received his stage four cancer diagnosis, I began to feel a slow ache growing deep inside me. I didn’t know what was to come.

During those months, I slept very little. I cared for my beloved around the clock as the cancer coursed through his body. When friends and family members came to relieve me, I could never really rest because I was so fraught with anxiety. The anticipation of losing him felt somehow weightier.

When he soared to heaven three months after his diagnosis, my oldest girl was only eight. I never dreamed God would use that tragedy to tether all of us so tightly to His heart.

I’ve been in denial for a while, but now I have to name it. The anticipatory grief is starting to return. I wonder if this is how Mary, Jesus’ mother, felt when she held her new baby boy — the Savior of the world — in her arms.

Doctor Luke, in his account of Jesus’s life, gives us some details of how Mama Mary might have been feeling. After Jesus was born and the shepherds and angels came to worship Him, Luke writes that Mary “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19 NIV).

In the original Greek, the word synetērei translated as “treasured” in Luke 2:19 means “to preserve knowledge or memories (as for later use).” Mary was savoring and storing up these memories of her son.

This same phrase is used in Luke 2:51. After Mary and Joseph cannot find their young son, Jesus, for three days, they discover He has been at the temple among the teachers. Mary may have been distraught in the moment, but looking back she “treasured all these things in her heart” again. She tucked this memory of her boy away in the treasure chest of her mind.

The Greek word symballousa translated as “ponder” in this same passage means to consider or to turn around in one’s mind. I’m learning from Mary’s example — trying not to drown in the waves of grief, but to treasure and ponder what God might be doing in this season of laughter and lament, celebrating and releasing.

I imagine the joy and grief swirled in her heart, ebbing and flowing like ocean waves throughout Jesus’ life. Mary, too, must have experienced anticipatory grief. She may not have understood it all, but she knew her son was born to save and suffer. She mothered, holding His calling in her weathered hands and tender heart.

As we step into a month full of festive awards nights, senior celebrations, and graduation for our daughter, the grief gathers quietly at the base of my throat. I anticipate the loss, but I also celebrate my girl spreading her wings and soaring into her next chapter of life.

Friend, what milestones or memorials will you mark this month? Are you experiencing anticipatory grief in any areas? Share in the comments.

Let’s treasure and ponder together what God might be doing in our midst.

Dorina helps people discover God’s glory on life’s unexpected trails. Subscribe to Dorina’s Glorygram here for reflections, recommendations, and details about her devotional journal, Breathing Through Grief.

Listen to today’s article on the player below or wherever you stream podcasts.