My little boys seem to have an innate desire to fight the bad guys, win the wars, and tussle about without a care for their own safety. As their mother, it is my desire to hone and encourage them in the way God created them to be, and to raise them to fight in God’s kingdom for the souls of His people.
Once upon 8 years ago, a handsome college freshman found my phone number, called himself a “woo” and became my best friend. Just a couple weeks later, we went on our first date.
Life is hard. This world is full of sin and sickness, terrible pain and death. So how can I claim that “it’s a good thing”? The beauty is in the battle and strength comes through the struggle. God is over all of it and it’s a good thing.
Out of nowhere, my son called to me and said, “Look, Mama! A butterfly!” He found my hand and jumped up into my lap. His little body held me down in the chair and pulled my head back into reality. I stopped to watch the butterfly with him.
WARNING: Potty training story ahead. If you’d rather not read about toddler poops, diddles, do-do dots and stinky stickiness… feel free to move along.
My littles teach me a lot about faith. When we ask God for healing, it’s easy to assume that everything will be all better immediately but difficult to trust His timing and process.