Blog
From and about women who love Jesus and want to share His message through Scripture, everyday inspirations, and relatable stories.
Most of us have experienced the frustration that occurs when a conflict between family members drags into the holidays. Not many of us can say we’ve never seen a situation blown so far out of proportion that bonds built over decades are broken in seconds.
When I first surrendered my life to Jesus, a friend told me to never pray for patience—or God would give me more opportunities to practice patience! I heeded her warning, but quickly learned that patience is as necessary as breathing.
I stepped into the grocery store and frowned at the bunches of “Happy Father’s Day” balloons, strategically placed by the entrance. If I’d been shopping for my husband or my now-grown sons, who are wonderful dads, my mission would have been easier. But that day, I had to buy a card for my father.
During a trip to Cancun with my husband and son, a family from our church vacationing in a nearby hotel invited us to join them on a fishing trip. Early on the morning of our scheduled trip, the captain postponed our departure by two hours.
I stared at my husband in disbelief. “But they reached out to you,” I said. “What do you mean you didn’t get the job?” Before he could respond, I grabbed my service dog’s vest and leash. “Callie, come,” I said. I didn’t want my husband to see me cry, but by the time we were halfway down our driveway my sobs caused severe muscle spasms in my back.
On November 29, 2023, the president of an organization my husband was affiliated with demanded I leave my service dog in a kennel and rent a wheelchair for the night of a public fundraising event on December 2nd.
After a hectic month in every aspect of my life, I was struggling to juggle my regular responsibilities. The multitasking that used to come easily for me caused stress, frustration, and discouragement. I was dropping balls and missing marks—falling short in so many areas.
When my now six-foot-two son was growing up, he experienced what the doctor called “growing pains.” During multiple appointments, the medical staff couldn’t prove that growing hurts and/or find physical concerns to explain the aching. However, my son’s leg pain was real. We did what we could to bring him relief but, sometimes, all we could do was comfort and encourage him while he . . . grew.
I concentrated on breathing slowly, trying to ignore my husband’s useless attempts to comfort me as we walked out of the doctor’s office. Alan dug his keys out of his pocket as we approached the car. “At least you weren’t that far along,” he said.