Blog
From and about women who love Jesus and want to share His message through Scripture, everyday inspirations, and relatable stories.
Kevan Chandler was born with spinal muscular atrophy (SMA), a rare neuromuscular disease that causes progressive muscle wasting. The disease confines him to a power wheelchair and Kevan requires assistance for almost all aspects of his life from bathing to eating.
Aubrey invited the dozen or so women who’d signed up for her fall Sacred Wilderness retreat to place their yoga mats on the porch. The lodge we’d occupy the rest of the weekend was tucked in the rolling country hills of North Central Ohio, far from city lights. We stretched out on our mats, draped a throw blanket across our bodies, and looked at the night landscape, barely able to discern the tall pines and deciduous trees in the valley from the shadowed lawn and distant hills.
When I was pregnant for the first time, I had a singular goal—to give birth without an epidural. I had learned about potential health benefits for mom and baby with unmedicated childbirth, but I’ll be honest, those weren’t the primary motivators to choose this method of birth. The truth is, I have control issues, and allowing anything to take away my power of command was inconceivable to me.
I know most people think they know everything when they’re young, but y’all, I REALLY thought I knew everything. My experiences as a teenager formed a faith and worldview that was very black and white; there was no room for gray. Everything was right or wrong. Logic over emotions. I always knew best because the “right” way to do things seemed clear to me.
Nobody knew my name, and they certainly weren’t going to notice whether I was at church on Sunday. I didn’t have a permanent address—something that took nine months to resolve. I couldn’t find my way to the grocery store without GPS. And all my kids were in school for the very first time.
For fourteen years I watched my daughters run cross country. On dry, 104-degree afternoons in the high-desert of Idaho. On muddy, water-logged fairways in California. And in shin-deep snow in Colorado and Pennsylvania, I have logged a surprising number of my own miles zigzagging across courses to cheer for them—from the time they donned jerseys in sixth grade through their final seasons competing as collegiate graduate students.
Please give your name and reason for calling. I’ll admit—I can be a bit old school. Even so, while I’m not one to require the latest smartphone, I’ve learned to stay somewhat relevant in the fast-changing world of technology. I have to be honest, though. That one took me by surprise.
When you think of the women of Easter, whose faces come to mind? Certainly Mary, the mother of Jesus, who faced a horror no mother should face as she watched her beloved Son die an agonizing death on a cross.
Another semester of Bible study at my church had come to a close. My thoughts turned immediately to how I would meet God now. How could I hear from Him if I didn’t have a fill-in-the-blank workbook to guide me or a teacher on a video to tell me all the rich insights I needed? Would I be able to understand God for myself through His Word in Scripture?