A Trip Without Dad: Holding Space for Grief

A month before my dad died, we took what we now know to be the last family vacation. It was a special trip that had been in the works for years. In fact, the idea of it was on my mom’s bucket list long before my sister and I even got married. She dreamt of someday taking her daughters and their spouses on a trip together. And she crossed it off her bucket list in April of 2022.

That trip to Siesta Key, Florida – a place near and dear to our hearts as my grandparents once owned a condo there resulting in many family visits to the epic white sand beaches – was monumental. Introducing our husbands and my sister’s kids to a place we loved, and getting to soak up the memories plus make new ones together, gave me life. On the plane ride home, I wept as a colorful sunset shown in the clouds, and an abundance of gratitude spilled out of me. We had such a great time that plans were already in the works for the following spring break. I was brimming with joy and hope for what’s to come. And then a month later, my dad went to be with Jesus unexpectedly.

After dad died, our trip to Siesta Key became a core memory for much more than a wonderful time together; it was now also a “last” laced with deep grief.
 

The length of grief

I was texting with a friend recently and sharing about how this year has been a very difficult one and I explained I am still trying to find my feet since dad died. Her response was “I’m sorry it has been such heavy and long grief.” That phrasing got me thinking.

Has it been long?
Has it been too long? I thought.
It’s not even two years yet, that’s not long, is it?
And then I quickly retorted myself with truth – No. Because grief is forever.

Our culture largely acts as if grief is on a definable timeline. Something like this. In the beginning you’re completely distraught, grief unbearable. In the first year you’re still hurting but learning to live. And as time goes on grief goes away and you “feel better.” But the reality is, grief never goes away; it ebbs, it flows, some days its lighter, others it hits you like a bag of rocks, but it most definitely has no end.

My friend was not wrong in what she said. My grief has been heavy, and it is long. But it’s not too long as I think that phrase made me feel because a) there is no timeline for grief and b) because it will go on as long as I live.  

The reality of that truth is abysmal at first. It’s terrifying to think of something so heavy not having an end. But what I’ve learned through my deep grief is a lesson only those who go through it can grasp. Grief does not go away. It is forever with you. But that doesn’t mean life will always be as insufferable as it first feels. As time goes on, grief feels different, and you will too.

The first year of life without dad, the thought of returning to Florida without him was like a cruel joke, laughable and an obvious “no”. We were solely focused on surviving the giant waves of grief and staying standing in the long-lasting aftershock of his unexpected death. There was absolutely no way we would consider taking a trip.

This year something shifted. We decided collectively that we were open to the thought of going on spring break together. We knew it would be painful and grief would be heavy, but we also knew there could be so much joy experienced alongside it. So we booked the trip, and flew together for a week in Miramar Beach, Florida.
 

A difficult, yet beautiful, “first”

The trip was everything we expected, and a lot we didn’t. Anytime you near a “first” in a grief journey it comes with much anticipatory grief and anxiety. You imagine what moments might bring a wave of sadness and try to prepare yourself for the unknown without being able to predict how you might feel.

Many grief-filled moments I in fact anticipated, and others knocked the wind out of me. We shared collective tears when the plane lifted off the runway, missing my dad’s contagious energy as he excitedly explained what was happening when we felt this or that during take-off (his way of calming our nerves). I sobbed when we arrived at the condo – a letdown of the breath and emotion I was holding, uncertain of how we could do this without him; and there we were staring at the beach, without him. And a dramatic orange sunset dripped with emotion as it took me right back to two years prior when my dad and I ran to the beach to catch the giant orange sun before it dipped below the horizon.

The night we watched the sunset, the wind was overstimulating. Turbulent gusts blew our hair straight backwards and sent a steady flow of sand particles across the beach. It chilled the air and compelled me to move. I grabbed my niece’s hand and we ran towards the sun pretending we could grab it before it disappeared. Our joy, overflowed into laughter. When I stopped to catch my breath, I stood in awe of God’s creation and considered how the glory we see on earth is just a fraction of that which waits for us in heaven. In that moment, I thought of the last sunset with dad, and imagined him seeing the same sunset somehow; there with us, but with a much different view. The tension of dad’s absence and the glorious beauty of the sun melting into a deep, vibrant orange hung in the air like thick humidity making it hard to breathe. I smiled, and then I sobbed.

This is grief. The absence of my sweet dad coming with us everywhere we go and melding with the goodness God has before us.
 

Holding space for grief

I am so glad we took this trip together, even though it was a hard first. We bathed in the sun as much as possible, saw dolphins in the gulf almost every morning from our condo balcony, played games in the evenings, swam, enjoyed exploring a new area we’d never been too, and made the best of every moment. 

On Easter morning, we trekked to the beach where the condo we rented was hosting an Easter Egg hunt. Lola and Leo (although poor buddy was sick with an ear infection most of the trip) searched for eggs in the sand, and even got a hug from the Easter bunny. It was a beautiful pastel sky, a soft blue blending into the gulf’s sea green as the sun peeked through a morning haze. The lighting and the beach were a perfect opportunity for a family photo.

As my sister and I looked to see how it turned out, she said what I was thinking, “There’s a hole. In every photo we take, there’s always a hole.” And it’s true. Every selfie or family pic we take has an empty spot - as if dad was off to the side just about to bound into the space we created for him. It’s painful, and beautiful all in one breath. It’s an incredible visual for grief.

There is, and will always be, a hole in my life where my dad once stood. It will never go away because it can no longer be filled by his presence, his love, his laugh. But I know now that the hole doesn’t have to go away for me to experience life. Just as this photo shows, we can go on fun trips, soak up the sun, smile authentic smiles, all while we carry the grief of my dad’s death with us.

There within lies the key to enduring the long journey of life after loss, to always hold space for grief.

When I first became acquainted with grief, I hated its constant existence following me around like my own shadow. I desperately wanted to get rid of it – to somehow taste how life felt before dad died.  I’m slowly learning that grief is not my enemy. It’s a new companion, along for the ride of life, reminding me of my dad at every turn and begging for space to honor that loss and love. And I’m okay with that. I might even go so far to say I’m grateful for it.

Grief will be heavy and it will be long, and I believe that’s okay. No matter how long it’s been – whether it’s going on two years as we currently are, or twenty - I will let the tears fall as I miss my dad or belly laugh imagining the silly dance move he’d be doing. It will continue to not be easy, but it will somehow be okay.

An Advent Laced with Grief: An Introduction

The heart behind an Advent devotional that will hold space for grief and find hope in the Advent season

On May 13, 2022, two ugly words obliterated my life – “daddy died.”

My dad was in excellent condition. He nourished and strengthened his body with great care. We often joked about how he, although the eldest, was the healthiest of us all. His death came as a complete shock.

To understand the depth of the grief I plunged into, you must understand that my family is extremely close-knit; we do everything together. My dad wasn’t just my dad – he was a beloved best friend who I talked to, almost daily. To lose him was like losing a part of my own body. And to have this amputation take place without warning, the grief crushed me.

I knew that because of our shared faith in Jesus Christ, I would see him again in eternity. But the large gap between now and not yet was unbearable. I wanted to see him now. I wanted heaven here now. I wanted to smash death and the way it wreaks havoc on the living to a million pieces. I was angry at the brokenness of this world, and I was full of sorrow.

In the blip of a heartbeat, my perspective on life, once full of bright color, was now eclipsed by the inky black shadow of death.

When the holiday season rolled around that first year I was only six months into life without my dad, still in the violent throes of acute grief. November contains Thanksgiving and my dad’s birthday, and then of course there’s Christmas and New Years; all dates that would typically be full of joy and togetherness. Now each one was a devastating reminder of my dad’s absence. I did not know how I was going to get through the holiday season without crumbling, let alone with an ounce of joy. I wanted to fast forward to mid-January.

As the Advent season approached, I floundered.

I told myself I wasn’t going to put up my Christmas tree. Why would I? I thought. I felt so far from the joy I typically felt when decorating for the season. It felt wrong to operate as normal when I felt anything but.

Then one day I flipped. In a flurry, I threw up our artificial Christmas tree and draped it full of as many lights as it could handle. My husband, a little surprised, asked what changed. And I told him, “Everything in my world feels dark right now. And I need as much light as I can possibly get.”

My tree, dripping in sparkling light, stood as a symbol. In the darkness of my grief, light and joy felt worlds away. But because of Jesus, I knew light was there, somewhere, somehow, even if I couldn’t grasp it with my hands. So I put up my tree, claiming it and hoping somehow I could soak up the light my tree so easily boasted.

Grief and Advent

In the life of Christ followers, Advent (which means coming or arrival) is the season in the church where we anticipate the joy of Jesus’ first coming, and we wait expectantly for Him to come again.

Now that I’ve experienced deep grief, the word that resonates for me most when it comes to Advent is longing. We remember the days before Jesus’ birth when the Israelites longed for a savior. And we long for the day Jesus comes back and restores our broken world.

Longing is a desperate word. Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary uses these words to describe it – “An eager desire; a craving; a morbid appetite”

Never have I understood and felt the depths of a word more.

In grief, I deeply long for much.

For my dad’s physical presence. For peace. For rest. For days without heartache. For healing. For joy. For hope. For Jesus to come again and permanently wipe death off the face of the earth. For the moment I get to hug my dad again as we spend eternity together in heaven.

Longing and grief go hand-in-hand. And I now realize, so does Advent.

On the surface, Advent as a grieving person feels like salt in an open wound; a season of celebration and togetherness that begs us to “be merry and bright” when all we feel is the agonizing absence of what was lost. But if we dig a bit deeper, because of Jesus, Advent is an opportunity to press into our longing and in the depths of it find glimpses of hope.

An Advent Laced with Grief

Last December, I stumbled my way through Advent. I started reading an advent devotional I bought but I only made it two days. I could feel that Advent was a great way to channel my grief, so I wanted to keep going, but the content of the devotional was thick (which proved difficult with my foggy grief brain) and there was no mention of grief and all the emotions that come with it – something I was desperate for.

What I wanted – an advent devotional that would honor my grief, bear witness to my pain, and help me find hope and light in the season – didn’t seem to exist. Thus, the idea for An Advent Laced with Grief was born.

An Advent Laced with Grief is a 10-day devotional series that holds space for grief and finds hope in the Advent season.

Through Scripture, reflection, and the Biblical tool of lament, this email series will encourage the grieving heart to express their pain to the Lord and help them anchor themselves to the light, hope, and comfort that co-exists with grief because of Jesus.

Friend, if you find yourself here, I’m guessing your heart is heavy with longing and you’re desperate to feel seen and somehow experience light or comfort in this dark time.

I see you.
I understand how much you’re hurting and how heavy this Advent season feels.
And I wrote this series for you.

An Advent Laced with Grief is my way of coming alongside you in this Advent season; consider me a gentle friend who is here to invite you to share how you’re feeling, commiserate with your pain, and remind you that even if you can’t see it right now, there is always hope.

If you resonate with this, my prayer is that you would join me in An Advent Laced with Grief. Tap the button below to head to the sign-up page where you can learn more about the free email series and sign up. 

Saying Goodbye to my Old Self

A post about How deep loss changes you

I read a novel recently that left me sobbing in the middle of the night.

This was not an “aww what a sweet story, brought tears to my eyes” sort of cry. This was a harrowing sob where in the darkness of our bedroom, the only light emanating from the Kindle in my hand, I muffled shuddered exhales and sharp inhales, trying not to wake my husband as I soaked my pillow with tears.

The words I read unearthed a deep agony I had not yet been able to define. In the character’s self-revelation, I found my own. And what I realized, cracked my already broken heart.

The plot of the novel is: “a woman unexpectedly forced to choose between the husband she has long thought dead and the fiancé who has finally brought her back to life.”

The book journeys through both love stories. As the reader, we fall in love with the main character’s high school sweetheart and follow along as they get married and build a life together. And then we watch her crumble as she learns of her husband’s tragic death in a helicopter crash and is dragged through the anguish of unexpected loss and acute grief.

The story continues as we witness the young woman move back to her childhood home, and from the ground up figure out who she is after the life she expected was ripped away from her. There we meet her new fiancé, and we fall in love with him too.  

The book quickly becomes a page turner as the husband reappears and we watch the main character wrestle with an impossible decision – which man will she choose?

Before and After

At first, you might find it odd that I connected so deeply with this story. No, I’m not debating between two loves in my life. Chris, you’re my one and only. ;) For me, this novel was much more than a love story – it was a dramatic depiction of how deep loss changes you.

There’s a quote early in the book that reads -  “I think that perhaps everyone has a moment that splits their life in two. When you look back on your own timeline, there’s a sharp spike somewhere along the way, some event that changed you, changed your life, more than others. A moment that creates a ‘before’ and an ‘after.’”

I resonate deeply with the validity of this statement.
My life is now divided into two chunks. Before my dad died, and after.

There have been other markers of before and after in my life. Before I got married, and after. Before my niece or nephew was born, and after. And the list could go on. Each milestone impacted my life in a significant way. But all of them were a mere ripple in comparison to the tsunami of change my dad’s death induced in my life.

Saying Goodbye

The night I sobbed in bed, I found myself at the climax of the story (spoiler alert) – the moment the main character realizes she wants to spend the rest of her life with her fiancé and says goodbye to her husband.

She doesn’t want to say goodbye to him. She still loves him! But she has to because the person she was before, died when she thought he did. She is different now in so many tangible and intangible ways. And she cannot rid herself of her new self even if she tried. So she must say goodbye – to her old life and her old love, so that she can go forward.

Partway through the book, I predicted the ending. I told Chris, “I have a gut feeling she’s going to choose her fiancé because she’s going to realize she can’t go back to who she was before.”

I predicted it because I get it.
I am not the same Mindy who existed before my dad died.
And I will never be that Mindy again.

If you’re thinking, “hold up, come on, you’re still the same you…” I’d politely agree to disagree. Am I the same person at my core? Yes, of course. But when someone significant in your life dies, it affects so much more than the obvious lack of their presence in your life. Loss affects your faith, your identity, your relationships with others, your confidence in yourself, your perspective on life, your priorities, your ability to think clearly (hello grief brain). It changes everything.

Add to the loss of my dad the fact that we moved in the same year, that I’ve had a hard time writing due to grief brain and all the other shifts, and then this summer my cat died, and it becomes abundantly clear that my life is vastly different than it was before May 13th, 2022. (And these examples just scratch the surface of other losses/shifts I’ve experienced in this last year).

So no. I am not the same Mindy who existed before my dad died. And that is uncomfortable.

I knew “old” Mindy really well. I knew what made her tick. I knew what made her feel safe, what coping mechanisms eased her anxiety, what gave her joy. A lot of those things have changed cause, well, everything changed. New Mindy is a bit of a mystery.  Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself. Other times I feel like a socially awkward turtle. And woven in between are a few blissful moments where I’m like “ahhh, there you are!”

I cried so stinking hard that night while I was reading because during the painful goodbye between the main character and her husband, I realized I too must say goodbye.

I’ve been trying to operate as the me I was before loss. But that me no longer exists. Trying to live as if I’m “old” Mindy is like trying to shove a round peg into a square hole. Just as the main character discovered, if I want to walk fully toward my future and learn to embrace the new me formed by loss, I need to say a love-filled goodbye to who I was before.

Finding Hope

I’m currently reading a book called Beyond the Darkness: A Gentle Guide for Living with Grief and Thriving after Loss by Clarissa Moll. I read part of it shortly after my dad died, but it wasn’t until now that I can resonate with the words she wrote.

Towards the end of the book Moll talks about the importance of grief integration – which she defines as “slow acceptance of the changes in your life that come after the death of your person”. She talks about how this daily action helps press you forward to thriving after loss.  

Now that I’m a bit further along in this journey, not so heavily entrenched in the earth-shattering agony of acute grief, I find myself in this place of slowly accepting what has happened. I wish I didn’t have to – I wish dad didn’t unexpectedly die when he did (it guts me still). But that is not within my control. What I can control is what I do with my life beyond dad.

So, here’s what I’m doing.
I am working on accepting the change that has happened in my life.
I’m saying a loving goodbye to the me I used to be, so I can accept and embrace who I’ve become.
And I am asking God to renew me.

Clarissa Moll challenged and encouraged me with these words, “You’ll move toward flourishing because grief was never meant to break you but to remake you. … Grief, this expression of love when the object is gone, can become the catalyst for growth.” 

The novel I read brought me to tears, but it also gave me hope. Loss changed and transformed the main character. But it did not break her. In time, she accepted the changes that flowed from loss and she learned how to live and love again. And I know I will too.

We have a mighty God who makes beautiful things out of dust. We are an example of that – from the dust of the earth he made us, and friends, we are fearfully and wonderfully made. As much as I wish I was not living this bitter reality without my dad, I know that God will make beautiful things out of the dust here too.

If you’re wondering what the “new” Mindy looks and feels like – stay tuned. I’m in a messy transition phase. But I’m bound and determined to find my feet again, and somehow, by the grace of God, make my dad proud and thrive in this new life I find myself in.

*Thank you for reading this. If you think of me, will you pray for me? This journey is tough. I’m seeking out joy as much as I can (I always want to attest to the joy that coexists with sadness, thank you Jesus) – but the nitty gritty work of navigating life after loss is really hard. So I appreciate your love, support, and prayers as I continue on.

P.S. The novel that moved me was One True Loves by Taylor Jenkins Reid. I know I spoiled the ending for you, but I still think the book is worth a read. One thing I really appreciated about the book was the author’s storytelling contained a raw and real portrayal of what acute grief looks and feels like. Most books or movies give the pain of grief little airtime, rushing to focus on the character’s life beyond. But this author intentionally dove into the messy middle of grief and made it clear that the character’s development took place over years, not days/weeks like most stories falsely portray. I really appreciated that.

This Easter Feels Different

A precious family photo from our family trip to Siesta Key, Florida - April 2022

how dad’s death makes this easter feel different

Every year as I sit in church on Good Friday, I am overwhelmed with fresh shock and awe over how Jesus was so badly beaten, and nails were literally pounded into his flesh so He might be hung like a criminal on a wooden cross.

As Jesus hung on the cross gasping for air, his lungs collapsing, God heaped the sins of the world on his shoulders. Jesus cries out “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?” because in that moment He was truly abandoned by the Father. He had to be in order for Him to take on the fullness of the wrath of God that humanity deserves because of our sin.  

When Jesus breathed his last, the world went dark – literally.
Jesus’ disciples wept. His mother was in agony.
Jesus was dead.  

The stench of death

Death changed my life on May 13th when it took my dad from this earth. Like a thief in the night, he was here one moment and gone the next. The shock of his unexpected death was an earthquake that shook its way through my reality, upheaved the stable ground I once stood on, and forced a tsunami of sadness, anger, and confusion to cover me. My world, now cracked and crumbling, drowned in grief.

I hate death. I hate the way it chokes out life. The way it thrusts the living into darkness as they mourn the loss of their beloved and try to navigate the new terrain they did not choose to explore. Death is the foul stench that permeates all of humanity – there is absolutely nothing we can do to avoid it.

With this fresh taste of death, Good Friday felt weightier this year. I cried many tears in church today.

I can empathize on a deeper level with the family and followers of Jesus who were scorched by the searing pain of loss. When Jesus’ body crumpled on the cross, the man they had come to know as the Son of God, their savior, was swallowed up by death. Every bit of their reality was shattered by the loss of Him.

Until three days later. When EVERYTHING changed. Not just for them, but for all of us.

Death is not the end

Three days after Jesus’ died and was buried, his tomb was empty. Why? Because He was alive! In flesh and bones, with the wounds from the cross and the spear stabbed in his side, Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene and then to His disciples.

The man who died a brutal death on the cross, was risen from the dead and later ascended into Heaven to sit at the right hand of God the Father. Oh, what a miracle!!

Can you imagine being one of the people who witnessed this? One day they watch their Lord and friend die on the cross, and a few days later they see Him standing right there in front of Him, full of life and breath. How baffling! How confusing! How hard to grasp! I would have been the disciple standing there in disbelief like, “wait, what?! HOW!? TELL ME EVERYTHING!”

Even as I retell this story, it baffles me all over again. How can this be? Praise the Lord!

In that moment, although I’m sure they were still mystified, the followers of Jesus could tangibly see the miracle of what God had done. But what they didn’t know then, what we have the gift of knowing today, is that Jesus’ death and resurrection changes everything.

When Jesus’ died and rose again, He defeated death. He defeated the evil one. And He gave us a plethora of gifts – many that we get to enjoy through the Holy Spirit while we live on earth, but the grandest of them all being a guarantee that if we believe in Him, death is not the end for us either. After death, we get to spend eternity by His side in Heaven.

Death is necessary

I wish that we could bypass the painful part of life where we lose the ones we love. To put it lightly, it hurts, really hurts to go through life without my dad. This has been the most challenging, heart-wrenching eleven months of my life.

What struck me today is that death is necessary. I know that feels like a “duh” but hang with me for a second.

As humans we know death is necessary because it’s a fundamental part of life. We cannot avoid it.
But as Christians we know that death is necessary because until Jesus comes again, it is through death we get to enter into life in eternity with the Lord. Hallelujah, praise the Lord!

Jesus’ death was necessary. If He had not died, there would have been no resurrection. And without His resurrection, no victory over sin and death. His death and resurrection was vital! Because of it, death is not the end; it is the beginning of something far greater than the life we live and breathe on earth.

And death is necessary for us too. Our bodies cannot physically live forever, but because of Jesus, death now has hopeful necessity. Dad’s last breath on this earth was not the end of his story, it was an instant transition. An end of life here as he knew it, and a beginning of life in Heaven with the Lord.

Don’t get me wrong. Death still sucks. I still hate it. It still took my dad from me. But not forever- because when death comes for us, Jesus is there just as He promises to take us to the place He prepared for us. In the same moment dad left here, He was there in the presence of Jesus getting to see the full glory of Heaven.

This Easter feels different

It’s normal for me to cry in church on Good Friday and Easter. Church always feels electric on these days, the worship amplified, as we join together to remember the death and celebrate the resurrection of our savior Jesus. The understanding of what God did for us through Jesus is overwhelming, always has been. But this year, it’s intensified.

Last Easter, I stood next to my mom and dad in front of the orchestra, belting our hallelujahs to Jesus alongside the trumpets and strings. It was a really sweet day together.

This year, my dad won’t be there. That crushes me. I wish he was here, giving me hugs as I type this through sobs, my glasses splattered with tears. But alongside my sorrow I am SO happy for him. He’s THERE. He is not sad. He is not broken. He is not surrounded by the challenges of this earth. He is experiencing the fullness of God and all of His glory in heaven. 

I know that my daddy is most definitely singing Hallelujah with his beautiful voice, and getting to do it right there with Jesus and the rest of the saints who went before him. So with more passion than ever before, I will belt my hallelujah (with tears streaming down my face no doubt), knowing that on Easter I celebrate Jesus’ work on the cross that gives us life after death.  

Don’t miss out

Dear friend, if you don’t know Jesus, take the time to get to know Him. I want to be there alongside you in heaven one day, celebrating the joy of the fullness of eternity with our savior. 

Knowing Jesus and believing what He did for you is the ONLY way to guarantee that you too, will be there. Read about what He did for you in the Bible. Believe it. Believe that you are a sinner, believe that Jesus’ death and resurrection was the pinnacle of God’s plan to redeem your brokenness, and you, my friend get to experience not just the goodness of life on earth with God’s blessings, but the fullness of glory one day in Heaven.

Romans 10:9-10 says, “If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.”

If you see me on Easter Sunday, sobbing my little eyes out don’t be alarmed. I cry because I miss my dad and wish he was standing next to me there in church. But I also cry tears of gratitude for my savior who took on the most selfless act, death on the cross, so that you and I might live. And that, my friends, is worth crying over.

Our New Home

The story of finding our new house and how God provided peace amidst anxiety

Last October, Chris and I decided we were ready to start searching for our next home. We both grew up with a lot of land on our parents’ properties, and realized as much as we loved Wauwatosa, we were ready to part with our postage stamp of a backyard and search for bigger, greener spaces.

The hunt was slow. Between October and April we looked at two houses – what we were looking for just hadn’t shown up. Until June 23rd when an email popped into our inbox.  

This is a complicated story to write – so many layers of emotions wrapped up in this giant step in our lives – because, if you’re not aware, my beloved dad died unexpectedly on the morning of May 13th. Life changed completely the second I answered that phone call, and my mom uttered the words “daddy died.” [To read more about my sweet dad and the eulogy I wrote tap here.]

When my dad died, (I still struggle to write those horrific words) we paused the house hunt. Life as we knew it became a new landscape, and the last thing we wanted was to consider moving in the midst of it. We called our realtor and asked him to stop the listing emails.

In the month that followed, Chris and I constantly drove back and forth from Wauwatosa to Grafton where my parents’ house is. It’s only a half hour one way, but after doing it constantly it became wearing. So one day, out of sheer exhaustion from another back and forth, I popped on Zillow to see what the world of houses had to offer. There I found a house so close to my parents’ I could walk through the back field to get there. My mind started racing. “This could be perfect!”

Long story short, we frantically contacted our realtor, set up a showing, looked at the house the next day and the Lord made it clear it wasn’t for us.

At the time I questioned why we would randomly find this house only to figure out it wasn’t right. But it’s now clear that it played an important role. This house opened our minds to receiving listings again from our agent, led us to pray about considering moving in this challenging season, and prepared us to consider the space we now call home.  

I share the following story about our new house for several reasons:

• To help myself process this giant step that took place

• To remind myself of how God provided exactly what we asked for

• To share with you that God really does enter heavy and hard places, and offers clarity and peace when there is nothing but anxiety
  

Finding our new home

The morning of June 23, Chris called me on his way home from a work event and said, “Have you checked your email?” It was a tough morning in the world of grief; I was missing my dad so heavily I couldn’t peel myself out of bed. With exhaustion and a bit of sass, I replied, “Umm no. Why? I can’t handle any surprises or guess work right now, what’s up?”

“A house came up that I think we want to look at. I called Brian (our realtor) and set up a showing in two hours.”

Okay… what? No. I can’t. I thought. Not this morning. My grief is too heavy. I cannot and will not leave this bed.

Plus, I had literally just told a friend that after seeing the last house I was sure that this wasn’t the time to move. So the timing seemed way way way off.

“Babe. I am so overdone this morning. I’ll look at the link, and think about it. But right now I need to go back to sleep. I’ll see you when you get home,” I responded to Chris.

As soon as I tapped the red button on my phone I was asleep. Which shows how truly overdone I was, I am not usually a sleeper when I’m stressed.

After I woke up, I decided I wasn’t going with Chris to look at the house. But ten minutes before he had to leave, I rolled myself out of bed, brushed my teeth, threw on some clothes and decided – “fine. I’ll just come”. I figured I already had my mind made up anyways, so it wouldn’t matter; it wouldn’t cause extra stress. So, off we went.

We pulled into the driveway, and I liked what I saw right away. As I walked through the house, scoping out each room, I could feel anxiety rising in my body. Crap, I thought. I like this house. I can see us here. It checks all the boxes. But, NO. I don’t want to. I do not want to move right now.

Our realtor had to leave early to head to another showing, so he locked up the house and Chris and I walked the property for a few minutes before heading out. As we walked down the driveway, I started sobbing. Emotions are at an all-time high with the loss of my dad’s presence on this earth; in that moment many layers of emotion overlapped.

Crap. We really like this house. We’re going to have to make a big decision!
I’m crushed beneath the weight of my grief as it is, how could I possibly add a GIANT life change on top of it? I don’t want to move right now.
I wish my dad were here with us right now – he would be so excited about this house.

As I sobbed, Chris’ hand in mine, I looked up at the tallest tree rustling in the wind along the driveway. With the shimmering leaves came a feeling as tangible as the wind that blew. As crazy as it may sound, I felt like my dad was walking down the driveway with us. I can picture it as if it were an actual memory – dad in jeans, a grey t-shirt tucked in, wearing his brown work boots, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the tree with me and then remarked how great this place was.

It brings tears to my eyes as I write this. Grief is such a disorienting experience. The mystery of death and the unknown of how heaven and earth overlap is mind boggling. I cannot explain that experience, and I know he wasn’t actually there, but I can tell you that it felt so real.
 

Making the decision to put in an offer

As you are probably aware, buying a house in the market last summer was wild. If you wanted the house, you had to put in an offer as soon as possible and be willing to offer more than asking. And you often had to sacrifice aspects of the typical homebuying process if you wanted to beat out other offers.

I am someone who does not make big decisions quickly. I need time to process, to pray, to be sure that I’m sure about the decision. So, needless to say, this was extremely stressful. Add in grief brain, which if you’ve never experienced intense grief let me tell you it’s like living in a fog, where you lose your thought mid-sentence or can’t remember if you added laundry detergent to the machine mere seconds ago.

I knew that we could not put in an offer right away. So we slept on it. Talked a lot. Prayed a lot, reached out to a few people to pray alongside us as we stormed the throne for clarity about this giant decision.

Fast forward through two stressful days full of thinking, anxiety, and praying… miraculously, the house was still on the market. Since we were still unsure, we decided to go to the Open House they were hosting and either say goodbye to the house, or put in an offer.  

When it comes to major life decisions I rely heavily on the Lord’s peace.

When we got engaged – there was peace.
When we bought our first house – there was peace.
When I made decisions regarding my career – there was peace.

Those decisions were not easy (well honestly, choosing to marry Chris was an easy one – no hesitation or doubt there). But in each one, when I cried out to the Lord for clarity, He provided peace. And I was desperate for this situation to be the same.

I pleaded with the Lord. Demanded, as much as one can demand from Him. Lord, I need you to show up in a big way. I need this to be abundantly clear – either a hard no or a hard yes.

I was carrying so much anxiety in my body from grief alone, and then add in the pressure of making this huge decision, I couldn’t imagine how I could possibly experience the peace that I craved. But I prayed, prayed, prayed that it would be so.

And friends, it was.

I had all the physical signs of anxiety as we pulled up to the house. My insides were shaky, breath was short, heart rate fast, and my palms were dripping with sweat. And again Chris and I prayed, “Lord make it clear. You have to. We need you to.”

Chris and I walked around the house together, but somewhat separately without sharing thoughts along the way. I asked the realtor different questions, pictured us in the rooms, imagined what filling the yard with my favorite people would look like and feel like. And with each step I took, the anxiety in my body dissipated.

My chest lightened. My pulse steadied. My palms dried. I could breathe deeper, more freely. What I felt in my body was peace. Palpable peace. Somehow, in a season where I feel completely lost, so foggy, so uncertain, anything but calm and clear – I had clarity.  

I can confidently proclaim that the only way that is possible is because of the Lord. That is not of me, that is not of my sensitive body. That is of the Lord. He answered our prayer miraculously and replaced my anxiety with clarity, certainty, and peace.  

We got back in the car, and I again started crying. “I think we need to put an offer in, Chris.” 

“So, do I.” He replied. 

Accepted offer

“Quick, talk to Brian. Let’s put in the offer before I panic,” I said to Chris with a laugh. 

At the open house there were many other people looking, and from how people were saying things like “that would be your room”, I was certain that we wouldn’t be the only offer on the table. We knew that if we wanted the house we had to go in swinging.

There are so many aspects of us getting the house that remain a mystery to me. So many things that can only be the Lord’s doing. One of the biggest ones being – our realtor suggested we go in under asking, ask for an inspection, appraisal, all the things you’d normally do but weren’t typical at this time in the market.

After asking several times, “Really? Are you sure? Will that be enough?” we trusted him and sent off the offer with prayer.

This part didn’t make me anxious. I felt like if we didn’t get the house then we knew it wasn’t what God had for us – that would be his way of slamming the door shut. If the Lord wants us here, the other offers won’t matter.

Kid you not, maybe a little over an hour later we got a call from our realtor telling us they accepted our offer.

WHAT?!  

I had so many questions:

• Were the realtors in cahoots?

• Did our realtor work some magic to make this happen?

• Did the sellers see me sobbing down the driveway on their Ring camera and find out what happened to my dad and choose us specifically for the house?

• Or was this completely the Lord’s doing?

No matter what involvement our realtor may have had, there is no doubt in my mind that this was the Lord’s plan. He provided over and over again. He answered our desperate cry for clarity. And he somehow got us the house under asking in what we assume was a mix of other offers.

And here’s a kicker that I found out after the fact – during our final walk through before closing, the seller’s agent told us that after they accepted our offer, another realtor called and was angry. She said, “Our client would have paid cash!” WHAT? There is no way we could have competed with that, so clearly the Lord truly carved out this space for us. I cannot get over this fact, it’s pretty wild.
 

PEACE AMIDST ANXIETY

Moving in this excruciating season was not easy. Try taking on two major life changes at once: losing my dad, and then moving from our first home – it’s no wonder my hair literally started falling out. Every bit was stressful and pregnant with emotion!

In the packing process, I found myself like an Israelite complaining about manna. Really, Lord? Thank you for the house you provided for us, but right now? I have to do this right now? Grieve my current house and city in addition to grieving my dad, right now? Physically pack when grief chains me to bed some mornings?

But in the midst of those fear-filled panics, in the depths of my bones I continually felt God saying, “This is what I have for you.”

Peace amidst anxiety.

Somehow, in the shakiest moments, I experienced the anthem I have declared for years. Not because of who I am, but because of who God is – our peace amidst anxiety. 

So… where are we now?

On September 11th, we packed our first home into a moving truck and made the trek from Wauwatosa to Grafton. Believe it or not, our new home is on the same street I grew up on. A two-minute drive, 12-minute walk, a mere seven country driveways down from my parents’ house.

This fact, well let’s be honest a lot of it, still shocks me.

Grafton was on our list of cities when we started the house hunt, but it wasn’t top of the list. We thought we’d land in Cedarburg or Mequon maybe. But God had other plans. He found us a house with the acreage and everything we were looking for, right down the road from my mom.

Being close to my mom, and now less than 10 minutes from my sister and her family too, has been an immense blessing in this season where we need each other more than ever. And let me tell you, my dad would have been over-the-moon excited about this move. He had been sending me links to houses he thought we should check out the week before he went to be with Jesus. I can imagine the giant smile, the way he would probably jump up and down, and maybe even shed happy tears over his dream of having his whole family within minutes of each other; it brings both tears and a smile to my face.

**Thank you so much for reading this story of how God provided this space for us. I pray that in some way it blessed you – that maybe you received an encouragement about God’s faithfulness or a reminder that He will always be our peace amidst anxiety. If you think of us, please continue to pray as we work on getting settled here, and tread forward on this unwanted journey of grief without my dad.

*pics of our first time showing the house to the family, and then our moving crew on the right

My dad's eulogy

On May 13th, I got the phone call I have feared my whole life. My mom called sobbing and spoke words that I struggle to type, “daddy died.”

For reasons unbeknownst to me this side of heaven, my dad went to be with Jesus that morning. As a healthy, active, full of life, 71-year-old, a pulmonary embolism (or catastrophic heart event, only the Lord really knows what happened) came as a complete shock. We are devastated.

It's been six weeks and I cannot grasp that this is my new reality. My sweet, joyful dad was one of my best friends. We talked or texted almost every day and saw each other weekly at the least. As a very close family who spends a lot of time together, his absence is crushing. 

On May 21st, we celebrated my dad’s life together with so many who knew and loved him. At the service, my sister and I shared words that I wrote about who our dad was. When you read these words, my prayer is that you would get a little glimpse of who my dad was, and why his absence leaves such a giant hole in our lives.

My dad’s eulogy

Friends and family – thank you so much for being here with us today to celebrate the life of our dad and grieve with us. We cannot believe that He went to be with the Lord already and we are absolutely devastated with shock and grief that we do not get to see his face on this side of heaven. But for right now, we ask that we take a collective breath together and celebrate the truly incredible man that our dad was.

Did you guys pack snacks and sleeping bags? Cause we might be here awhile…

If you read our dad’s obituary, you’ll notice that a phrase we used to describe him was “he fiercely loved.” The verse we chose from Romans says, “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” That is the kind of love that describes our dad – one that is so deep it’s beyond comprehension.

You could see it in the way he talked. The way he was already at your door with a toolbox in hand and somehow had already run to the hardware store before you’d even finished explaining the issue you were having with your toilet. The way he brought over not one but 6 boxes of your favorite cookies from Costco. The way he gave generously just because he wanted to. And you could see it in the way that he called just to check in and update you on his day.

A lot of times the calls were to tell you how many turkeys were in the backyard, what he had for breakfast, to ask if you’d tried yogurt for your upset stomach, or to make sure you knew why you absolutely needed the newest Apple product he was obsessing over.

His calls were often not short, even after you told him, “Hey dad, or hey Todd, I really have to get going.”  

But those conversations happened because he genuinely cared and wanted to connect deeply. To share everything. If he was excited about something he wanted to tell you about it, and he wanted you to be excited about it too. And while he would often call to chat about random things, if you were struggling and needed to talk – he listened with tenderness and intention, and spoke truth in the simplest, most grounding of ways.  

The most beautiful thing about even those long conversations is, our dad was a man who never held back. He was shamelessly authentic. A man full of integrity. And you could see that in everything he did. From the way he ran his business, to the goofy way he got fancy feet and what he called “stupid” shoulders when he danced.  

It’s impossible to summarize the life of a man who was so abundantly full of life; someone who had his hands in so many things. He loved biking, riding his motorcycle, fishing, waterskiing, snow skiing, cross country skiing – as you all know, he was a very active guy. And that never slowed down. In fact, we’re pretty sure his pace picked up over the past few years as he added hunting, farming his fields, kayaking, playing ukulele and electric guitar to his already long list of passions.

But no matter how all-in he was on whatever work project or hobby, nothing compared to his passion and deep, deep love for people- especially his family.

Our grief is intense because we were all SO close, and we were so blessed to have spent SO much time together – he wasn’t just our dad, husband, father-in-law, grandpa, or brother – he was our cheerleader, caretaker, protector, and best friend. He was everything.

Being fiercely loved by him was such a gift to experience, and to witness. He adored my mom, the love-of-his-life, best friend, and bride of 48 years, he was absolutely obsessed with his grandchildren, he built an irreplaceable bond with his son-in-laws, and my sister and I were his treasures. He showed it to us in so many ways, so many I love yous, so many laughs, so many tight hugs and kisses on the forehead, and so much generosity. He truly loved us unconditionally.

There is so much more we’d like to tell you about our dad as this is just a tiny glimpse of who he was, but there is one thing you cannot miss. Our dad was the incredible, joyful, loving man that he was because of the God who created Him. Our dad fiercely loved the Lord – he studied the word fervently with his men’s bible study, he talked with God daily, he was an active member at church, and He worshipped the Lord through his love for Christian music. The leader, lover, joyful man you knew him to be? That was because of his love for Jesus.

His identity in Jesus is what empowered the way he loved us, the way he took care of my mom, and the way he shaped us into a family that knew God loved us deeply, and that He was always, always, always, in control.

As we wrestle with the suddenness of our beloved dad’s passing, and question the timing of it all, there is one thing that we are clinging to. We know that we know that we know that because of his relationship with Jesus, He is in glory with the Lord.

One morning as my sister, mom, and I laid in my parents’ bed crying together – Steph painted the most comforting visual. She said, I cannot imagine that dad’s seemingly healthy body gave out so swiftly and unexpectedly – what I have to picture is that in that instant God simply scooped him up as He said, “I’m calling you home NOW.”

We are completely devastated for all of us, we cannot imagine living life here on earth without him – but in the depths of our grief we have both joy and hope, knowing that He is currently soaking up the immeasurable beauty of heaven with the Lord and someday we will meet him there.

It is physically painful to imagine what the days ahead will hold, but I know with confidence that my dad would want us to find joy amidst the pain. He was the epitome of positivity. There’s a family joke that dad would always share when we were struggling. First, he’d listen with intention. He’d hug us in our frustration. And then he’d say, “Okay let’s flush it down the pooper.” We’d laugh – sometimes he’d even literally take us to the bathroom and flush the toilet for dramatic effect. And even though the situation didn’t immediately get better, there was joy right there in the midst of it.

I know we all miss him terribly. There is a giant - unfillable hole that will stay with us until we meet the Lord face to face, but we are going to do our very best to fix our eyes on the One who taught our dad to love and gave him incredible joy, and trust that He will help us make it through each heavy day.

I want to share one more story with you from the longest week without our dad.

Steph wasn’t sure how to tell Lola about grandpa’s death because they were the best of friends. He was an amazing grandpa who lit up when her or Leo entered the room. He was obsessed with them, and they shared many, many precious moments together from ranger rides to bike rides, to playing ukulele and cuddling on the couch.

With great courage my sister took on the impossible task of telling Lola what happened. When Lola heard that grandpa died her instant response was, “So Grandpa is in heaven?” She asked questions, cried, and then some time later said… “I’m not sad anymore, mama. I’m happy.” “Why’s that?” Steph said. “Because Grandpa is in my heart and I know I’m in Grandpa’s heart.”

We know that this is just the beginning of our grief, and that it’s going to be really, really hard to live life without him. But as we look around and see him laced in everything, we have to follow the simple wisdom of my sweet niece. Though his presence is gone, he lives on in all of us.

As we enter these days ahead, please, please, please keep reaching out. Keep telling us stories about him, help us find joy amidst our devastating grief by celebrating the legacy he leaves behind. Ask us to share memories about our dad, ask my mom to tell you about her best friend and the beautiful marriage they shared. And may we all know that even in this unbearable pain, the Lord is present and as dad would so confidently say, “even in this, God is in control.”

thank you & please pray

Thank you for taking the time to read those words. It means so much to me. I pray that you are encouraged or inspired by hearing about how my dad lived his life. When you think of my family, will you please pray for us? Especially for my sweet mama, please.

I shared the words below with those of you on my email list, but I want to leave them here for anyone else who finds this post too.

When people ask how I’m doing, my honest answer is “each day is a new kind of terrible.” My dad was so involved with everything—every aspect of each of our lives—that it’s hard not to see him in everything. That is both beautiful and shattering as the obliterating pain of grief is inescapable. 

But as I talk about the searing pain in this loss, I must also talk about the good Lord whose hand can be seen even in this. We know that God is rejoicing with us because my dad now gets to see Jesus face to face. But we also know that He’s mourning with us as we long for my dad’s presence here. 

We know God has not left us. We know He has been carrying us, and will help us learn to live without my dad, even though we fight against this reality with every fiber in our bodies.

There’s a song that put words in my mouth on a day where all I had was sobs. It’s called “Hold on, Pain Ends” by For King & Country. The lyrics are as follows:

“Breathe in and breathe out
I know it hurts now
Pray through the waiting 
Hold on, pain ends

Hope when it’s all gone
Hope when it’s so wrong
Nothing is wasted
Hold on, pain ends

….
When it’s hard to say amen
And it doesn’t go as planned
When it’s more than you can stand
You can hold onto Me then.”

It is so very hard to say Amen right now. Because I do not feel “in agreement” with the timing that the Lord ordained for my dad’s life. I want to throw a tantrum even though I know it won’t shift a thing (and some days I actually do). But, with gritted teeth and a ton of tears, I am proclaiming with my mouth that nothing is wasted with the Lord, and even when everything is so very wrong, I will cling to Him with hope.

Thank you for reading and for praying for me and my family.

This isn't what I signed up for...

“This isn’t what I signed up for…” 

I read this sentence in a new devotional I’m reading (The Path to Peace by Ann Swindell), and was transported out of the book and into my mind where I have been uttering this same phrase over and over again lately.

My 8-year-old cat has been sick for the past five months. As we continue to spend a boatload of money, time, and emotional energy on trying to get him healthy I’ve caught myself fuming, “This isn’t what I signed up for!”

That cold January day when I ventured to the Wisconsin Humane Society to see this adorable fluffy kitty that had popped up on the adoption website, I wasn’t going in thinking, “okay… I am going to pick an adorable cat who is going to have a bajillion health challenges.” No, I went in with the intention of adopting a cute kitten who I could snuggle and love and would keep me company while Chris was away for work. 

I had no idea then that our sweet little Finn would become an irreplaceable joy to our family, but also cause incredible stress as over his short little life he’s endured a plethora of not-so-minor health challenges. 

“This isn’t what I signed up for!”

I bet that every single one of you reading this could write your own list of “this isn’t what I signed up for.” I’ll go first:

• I didn’t sign up for a hypermobile body that requires lots of work to keep happy

• I didn’t sign up for a struggle with anxiety

• I didn’t sign up for panic attacks

• I didn’t sign up for eyeballs that need glasses to see

• I didn’t sign up for being a highly sensitive person

I mean heck, we could use this for anything! I think we could even get cynical about some of our positive traits. I didn’t sign up to love writing and want to write a book (cause sometimes it feels like a big challenge even though I know it’s a gift). 

I don’t know what would make your list of things you didn’t sign up for – but I want to encourage you that it’s okay to acknowledge that list and embrace whatever feelings come out of it. Compassion. Annoyance. Frustration. Sadness. Anger.

In my current circumstance, when those words fly through my brain, I experience both compassion and annoyance.

Compassion – Aww hunny, you’re right! You didn’t sign up to have a sick kitty. It’s been really hard over the past five months when your baby keeps coughing and having nose bleeds and you cannot figure out how to help him. Plain and simple, that sucks. It’s okay to be frustrated with your circumstance.

Annoyance – Ugh, Mindy. Knock it off. Sure, you didn’t sign up for this. But come on – you can’t predict what’s going to happen when you sign up for anything! Suck it up. You got a sick cat. You love him. You’ll deal with it. And it’ll be okay. 

What I’m realizing lately is, both responses are okay. I can be compassionate and give myself permission to lament about the frustrating circumstance that we’re in, and I can also firmly remind myself that although I didn’t sign up for it, this is my circumstance to deal with and I am capable. **important note: this is a healthy response as long as annoyance or a firm reminder doesn’t evolve into shame (“ugh Mindy get over yourself because others are going through much worse than you.”) – because shame is never a helpful or appropriate response.

The important question is – what do we do once we’ve allowed those feelings to flow? 

Do we sit in the “ugh I didn’t sign up for this” negative attitude?
-OR-
Do we acknowledge “yeah I didn’t sign up for this” and learn to embrace and find peace within our circumstances?

That is the question I am asking myself as I come off a stressful week with yet another nosebleed and CT scan for my cat, followed by a bout of diarrhea where I found myself wiping my cat’s booty more than I ever imagined I would. 

I am tired of this situation. I am tired of having a sick cat. Part of me hangs tight to the angry “I didn’t sign up for this!” attitude. But the reality is, that does me no good.

In John 16:33, Jesus says, “In this world you will have trouble…” (Anyone else feel the need to quote that Bible verse a lot these days?) We live in a world with a lot of trouble. And some seasons feel like they have more trouble than they have calm. But guess what – that. is. life.

So how do we switch our mentality to embrace our circumstance and find peace within it – even when the situation is really, really hard? It all comes back to where we root our hearts and minds. 

If I root my mind in the ever-evolving frustration with my cat’s illness or the fact that there is no end in sight, I will lose it. I will feel frustration at every turn and be constantly absorbed by the unknowns that govern this situation. 

If I instead root my mind in the Lord, who He is, who He made me to be, and the gift that through Him we can experience peace in any situation, then I can shed the “this isn’t what I signed up for” attitude. 

Here is the shift I am adopting:
Instead of  - UGH, This isn’t what I signed up for!
I’m trying – Lord, this isn’t what I signed up for. But you blessed me with a sweet kitty that we love immensely. You’ve brought great joy to our family through him. You have blessed me with a sound mind, a smart brain, and an ability to research and advocate for his health. You’ve surrounded us with a team of veterinarians who want to help. I am not alone in this. Yes, this may not be what I signed up for (and it’s okay to grieve that) but I am capable of handling it, and there will be joy and peace amidst it, if I keep coming back to you. 

The rest of John 16:33 says, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” 

Jesus came into our broken world, as a human, so that He could not only relate to what we go through here on earth, but so that we would be equipped with what we need to endure any heavy situation that comes our way. It is not easy to walk the road of things we didn’t sign up for, but if we root ourselves in Jesus, we will not lose ourselves to frustration; in fact much to our surprise we can and will find peace in the midst of it. 

I don’t know what heaviness you find yourself walking through, but my prayer is that you would find the strength to shift your focus from the struggle, to the One who sustains you and promises to help you overcome it. 

Merry Christmas from the Larsens - 2021

Imagine yourself opening your front door to a glistening winter wonderland. Snowflakes sparkle as they dance their way to the edges of tree branches and drop a soft white blanket atop the ground. The world is peaceful, and the air crisp. 

Bundled up, you step into the cold pressing fresh tracks into the snow on your way to your mailbox. Inside you find an evergreen envelope with your name delicately scribed in gold ink. Once you’re back inside your cozy home, you slide your finger to open the envelope and pull out a Christmas letter with photos, a few updates, and a reminder of how loved you are.

This is the letter we’ve sent to you.

For the next few moments, scroll down and enjoy the message it contains.
Without further ado, here’s a (virtual) Christmas card from us to you.

10 years of marriage: This November marked 10 years of marriage. It is hard to believe it’s been ten years already, and yet looking back on our wedding day it feels like forever ago. We are so incredibly thankful for our marriage; we’ve grown so much both in love for each other and in how to better care for each other. We praise the Lord for the way He has helped us build a strong marriage. To celebrate this year, we headed to the North Shore of Minnesota (where the photos you see here were taken). It was a wonderful and much-needed getaway where we soaked up the woods, enjoyed views of Lake Superior, and reminisced on our years together. We are still very much in love, and cannot wait to see what the Lord has for us in years to come.

Auntie and Uncle times two: Little Leo Koester joined my sister’s family on May 16th. As you know we both adore Lola, and love being Auntie and Uncle, so getting to welcome another sweet one into the family has brought us a lot of joy. He is the cutest little peanut, has the biggest smile, and we already love him so much.

Growth in our jobs: The Lord has blessed both of us with growth in our jobs throughout this difficult year. Chris was recently named a Rising Star in his field of Mergers & Acquisitions. He also took on another role as staffer through which he helps delegate teams and mentors junior staff members. (I’m a proud wife who wasn’t surprised in the slightest when someone in upper management applauded Chris for the way he helped make a much needed shift in the work culture through his new role).
I was excited to be published in Grit & Virtue and The Joyful Life Magazine this year. You can read more about each of the pieces here. I also grew my Instagram following - where I write and create videos to help women find peace amidst anxiety - to over 1700 people. You can connect with me there @mindyklarsen.

Family moved: If you’ve been here for awhile you know that one of the praises I’ve had in the past is the gift of my sister and her family living only 10 houses down; the chapter on that sweet season has closed as they bought their first home 35 minutes away. We are so happy for them, and love visiting them in their new space, but naturally, we miss being a two minute walk down the street.

Heavy anxiety: I am no stranger to the struggle with anxiety, but this year (specifically August - September) was the heaviest yet. Physical anxiety, largely in the form of panic attacks, wreaked havoc on my body and debilitated me. This is both a challenge and a praise as this tough month was a wake up call to make shifts to better support my body and mental health. While I would never wish to relive them, I am thankful because it helped me rely heavily on the Lord & I’ve since made much more progress towards peace (and it gave me a whole lot more passion for my mission to help others find peace right in the midst of anxiety).

Navigating unknowns: We are in this boat with many of you as the unknowns of this world continue to carry on. This should come as no surprise as Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble…” but the unknowns in this season have been exhausting. It is not easy, but we are doing our best to leave the future of our country, questions about job security, and every other unknown that weighs heavy in the hands of the Lord as He is the only one who knows and affirms our next steps.

Psalm 27:13 says, “I will remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” No matter what is going on in our world, good or bad, the Lord is always, always working for our good. We are so thankful for the many ways we saw the Lord moving in our lives throughout the past year. Here are just a few:

• Faithfulness in healing - my family from Covid, my mom from hip surgery, Chris from a torn hip muscle

• Provision in timing - It is evident that the Lord goes before us and in Him all things hold together - we saw that many times throughout this past year. Whether in small things like a perfectly timed get-together with friends to lift our spirits that were feeling heavy, or the way He orchestrated my nephew’s birth and time spent in the NICU before my sister moved away (making it more capable for us to be hands on with my niece), and gave Chris the opportunity to see his grandma before she passed away, He provided over and over again.

• Sustenance in heavy moments - I felt like I would have slipped through a crack in the floor when my anxiety peaked this summer had it not been for the Lord and His Word holding me up. I was reading through a study of Psalms at the time and each one was particularly purposeful for the exact moment that I needed to read the truth it provided. I would have truly suffered had the Lord not been there breathing life into my heart through His Word, and the Holy Spirit.

I cannot adequately put into words how much we love the Lord and how grateful we are for the ways He has loved us, provided for us, and protected us throughout this past year. No matter how heavy it was at times, He was our light in the darkness, our hope in the heavy, and our peace amidst anxiety.

I love this verse from Hebrews that emphasizes the incredible gift we have through Jesus who “is the radiance of God’s glory, the exact representation of His being, sustaining all things by His powerful word.”

If you’re feeling heavy right now, my prayer is that you might be overwhelmed by the truth that you are being held by the very creator of the world who sent His Son to sustain you with His powerful word. Jesus came for a very specific purpose, not just for salvation, but also so that God could love us to the fullest extent of giving us someone who felt pain just as we do so that we might be comforted in the best way possible.

Jesus coming to earth was no small thing. It changed everything.

May you feel the beautiful weight of that powerful truth this Christmas, and every day after.

** The photos shown were taken by the incredibly talented Tonya Hjort photography. She was so much fun to work with and we LOVE the photos she captured. You can follow her on Instagram here. **

Stop Fueling Fear: how my family got Covid and panic almost wrecked me

A harrowing tale of how my family got Covid, 
panic wrecked my body, & how you can keep it from happening to you

 
On August 14th, three little words sent me into a tailspin. “He has COVID.” My brother-in-law wasn’t feeling well, went to get tested, and my sister called with the unfortunate news. I played it cool on the phone, encouraged my sis the best I could, but inside my body a panic storm was brewing. 

Two days before my brother-in-law’s positive test, my whole family went to dinner together (minus Chris who was at home setting up a generator as we were on day three without power from a bad storm; talk about a chaotic week.) Whether we liked it or not, we were holding our breath together to see if we shared the same fate. 

As soon as I hung up the phone, I went into go-mode. I contacted my naturopath to find out what supplements I should be on, ordered a new thermometer and pulse oximeter, and reached out to my contacts to find a doctor who had experience with successfully treating positive patients. I convinced myself I wasn’t operating out of fear, I was just being resourceful, covering my bases, and doing what I could to be safe. What was really happening was a massive grasp for control. 

Fight for control = major breeding ground for anxiety 

As the days progressed, my desperation for control skyrocketed. I checked my temperature and oxygen level multiple times a day. Checked in on the family relentlessly. Asked Chris every other minute “am I okay?” and celebrated when the sun went down on another day without symptoms. 

I kept it mostly together until my mom texted “Dad has a fever, and muscle aches.” 

This text broke this camel’s back – there was no more faking control. Panic attack after panic attack battered my body as Dad got sick, then mom, and then 10 days later, my niece and my sister. 

If you’ve never had a panic attack, I’d like to give you a tiny snapshot of what it’s like. Everyone experiences them differently but overall it feels like your body has been hijacked. Your insides feel like they are malfunctioning. Weird things like jaw shakes, nausea, inability to get your words out, sweating, weak or tingly limbs happen, and you feel completely out of control. It’s a common misconception that panic attacks are more of a mental experience, when in reality they are largely physical, and extremely draining. 

Now imagine having them over and over again. 

Let me pause here and say – no one in my family got severely sick, praise God. Their initial symptoms were mostly mild, and with the help of a wonderful doctor who successfully treated positive patients with things like monoclonal antibodies and ivermectin (both of which worked extremely well for my family members), they treated and eradicated the virus super early. And guess what – somehow I dodged the bullet. By the grace of God, I never got sick.

With that, you might be wondering – wait, so why were you freaking out? Why were you literally shaking on the couch having panic attack after panic attack? To which I would respond with one word. FEAR.  

My family was sick from COVID, and I was physically and mentally sick from fear.

There were two factors that contributed to this uncomfortable state:

1. An overdone nervous system

2. Months and months of steeping myself in fear-filled stories about the virus

AN OVERDONE NERVOUS SYSTEM 

Our nervous system is an incredible part of our body. In short, it’s what controls automatic actions like breathing, and it’s the system responsible for triggering the fight-flight-freeze response that keeps us safe from danger. 

When the nervous system is overdone, often caused by an abundance of stress and some combination of lack of rest or minimal sleep, it goes into hyper-protective mode. In this mode, the sympathetic nervous system (known for the fight-flight-freeze response) takes over, and the body constantly looks for danger. 

This is what happened to my body.

This summer was a really full, stressful season that wore on my nervous system. So when one more stressor - finding out the family had COVID - was added on, my nervous system said, “Whoa okay, officially overdone, now turning on protective mode.” 

I was in a constant state of fight-flight-freeze for much of two weeks.

What that meant was, my body acted like there was a bear in every single room in my house. I was jumpy. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. And I had a plethora of panic attacks. Here’s the frustrating part – when you experience a panic attack, you cannot think your way out of it. Logic, truth, or wisdom literally has no power in this moment. Here’s why. 

The cortex (the thinking part of your brain) turns off because the amygdala (the part of your brain that sends the signal to turn on the fight-flight-freeze response) is in the driver seat. Once the fight-flight-freeze runs its course and the body recognizes there is no danger, then the cortex can jump in and speak truth. But until then, consider yourself hijacked. All you can do is ride it out. 

When my family was sick, I knew the stats. I knew that there was a 99% survival rate. I knew none of my family members were hospitalized. I knew that they had medication and supplements to support their bodies as they healed. But until my body got off the fight-flight-freeze rollercoaster I apparently bought a season pass to, the truth was like a whisper in a crowded room. I could not absorb it.  

STEEPED IN FEAR-FILLED STORIES

Looking back it’s easy to see that I operated with zero chill right from the start. But this wasn’t just some out of the blue fear that I built up on my own. It was from months and months of steeping myself in fear-filled stories about the virus.

From the very beginning of the pandemic, the stories highlighted by the news and social media have been the ones based largely in fear. Hospitals overwhelmed. People dying left and right. If you don’t do this, you’ll die. If you don’t do that you’ll die. If you get the virus, you’ll probably die. 

Sure, there are a few positive stories woven in here and there (and there’s a lot more if you actually dig for them… don’t get me started on how frustrating main stream media is). But it’s the fear-filled stories that sell and spread. And guess what? It’s the fear-filled stories your brain remembers the most too. 

Your brain’s number one job is to keep you alive. So if it hears about something that might be dangerous it latches on to it. You might think that you’re simply reading a scary story and leaving it behind when you close that tab on your phone. But what really happens is every time you read one of those, you flood your brain with negative information, store up a little bit of fear, and add undue stress to your nervous system without even realizing it. 

So, while my overdone nervous system was the key player in how my body responded to the news that my family had the virus, a fellow component was how many fear-filled stories were hanging out in a corner of my brain just waiting to transform into what ifs and worst case scenarios. 
 

HOW TO STOP FUELING FEAR

Friends, I share this story with you because I don’t want any of you to end up where I did. Mental health issues are on the rise the past couple years, and it’s no wonder why. This world is blanketed in fear. If you want to find peace in this pandemic, and protect your body from the effects, you have to stop fueling fear. And I’m here to help. 

Over the past couple months I have been working hard on supporting my body and my mind to return to a peaceful place. Each of the following tips have been incredibly helpful and the best part is they work on both sides of the equation: if you find yourself in a stressful situation like I was, or if you want to stay ahead of the curve and keep that from happening in your own life. 

Here are three simple actions that will help you stop fueling fear and find peace: 

1. Limit your time with negative stories 
This one is quite simple. If you don’t want your mind to be steeped in fear-filled stories, stop watching or reading them. This seems like common sense, but from a girl who gets sucked in and reads a lot of things she probably shouldn’t, I get it. It’s hard to put a stop to it. It’s addicting somehow. 

One good way to determine if it’s something worth your time and worth the risk on your mental health, ask yourself this question. How is my anxiety today? Can I read this piece or watch this story on social media without having an emotional reaction? If the answer is no – then it’s important to pass it by. 

2. Care for your nervous system
If your body and mind endures too much stress, your nervous system will kick on protective mode. While this mode is extremely helpful (it’s what enables you to slam on your breaks when a car swerves in front of you react before you even realize what’s happening), being stuck in this state is uncomfortable and not sustainable.  

A few things you can do to support your nervous system and help it remain balanced even in stressful seasons are:

• get good sleep (take extra naps if you can)

• plan life-giving activities (activities you love help your body feel safe)

• practice deep breathing (the deeper you breathe the more you help your body relax & stimulate the vagal nerve which talks directly to your nervous system)

• drink lots of water (detoxes out toxins that stress your system)

• reduce alcohol intake (when your body is stressed, drinking alcohol adds extra stress on your already stressed system – that’s a lot of “stress” in once sentence hah) 

• do less (don’t rush, don’t cram in a gazillion plans, give yourself space)

• laugh – up the joy and fun!
  

3.    Get in the Word
During the month of August when my family had the virus, there were nights my anxiety was so high and my body was so jacked with adrenaline I was afraid to go to sleep. That quickly shifted when I climbed into bed with my Bible. 

I was working my way through a Well-Watered Women Study that takes you through 40 days of praying through the Psalms and it could not have been more perfect God-timing. 

Each night I read one Psalm, meditated on the words, and fell asleep by the grace of God and His truth. Psalm 34 for example drenched my body in relief as the words proclaimed, “I sought the Lord and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.” 

Getting in the Word is by far the best advice I can give you. The more connected you are to the Lord and His faithful promises, the more worry loses its power. This has a two-fold effect. Steep yourself in God’s truth and peace, and the power of the negative stories you read will diminish, and your body will feel safe enabling your nervous system to remain balanced. 

END NOTE & WHY THIS MATTERS

If you know me in person, you’d know that before my family got sick, I wasn’t someone walking around in fear of Covid. I was still being careful and cautious of course, but I was carrying on with life as normal because I adamantly believe it is not healthy or helpful to live in fear. (And I continue to stand by that truth.) So to share a story about how I fell apart is quite humbling. 

But here I am, sharing this piece because I think there’s a life lesson that applies to much more than this pesky virus. 

It reminds me of a song I learned growing up. It goes, “Oh be careful little eyes what you see. Oh be careful little eyes what you see.” Then it goes through the various body parts. “Oh be careful little ears what you hear.” “Oh be careful little tongue what you say.” “Oh be careful little hands what you do.” The point being – what we see, what we hear, what we do impacts our body, mind, and soul. 

If we want to be peaceful people who trust in the goodness of our Father who goes before us and holds all things together no matter what (Colossians 1:17) then we have to be intentional about what we input into our minds and our bodies.

If you want to be healthy – you have to eat healthy food. 
If you want to be rested – you have to set boundaries that carve out space for breath.
If you want to have a mind fixed on Christ – you have to study His word, and know who He is. 
If you want to have a balanced nervous system – you have to do your part to make sure your body has what it needs to feel safe. 
If you want to feel joyful – you have to stop with the negative stories, and start pouring in life-giving activities.
If you want to live without fear – you have to trust in Christ alone.

While I most definitely do not want to relive the heavy month of August, I am so thankful for the wake-up call. My body and our good and gracious Lord made it abundantly clear that it was time to make some adjustments to better support my body and my mind. I still have a ways to go – but I am confident that the shifts I am making now will be worth the pain it took to set them into motion.

I don’t know what state you find yourself in today – but let me encourage you.
In Jesus’ name, you are not stuck. You have the power to shift and grow and adjust in any way that you need, and our Heavenly Father is right there with you to help you step in the way you should go.  

Relying on God in the Messy Middle

After a week away from home, I pulled into the driveway bummed that vacation was over, but excited to settle back into routine and give my sweet kitty some cuddles. I neared the garage, peered over to take a peek at my flower garden, and my jaw dropped. 

What on earth happened?! I fumed out loud to no one. 

My hanging basket that once dripped with luscious violet, yellow, and flamingo pink flowers was now a crispy, scraggly, oh-so-thirsty skeleton. As a woman who loves her plant babies, I was livid.

Seriously, how did this happen?!

Every time we leave for a trip I leave my pet sitter a cheat sheet for how to take care of Finn and keep tabs on the house while we’re gone. It’s a bullet-pointed document that makes it incredibly easy for the sitter to make sure they’ve taken care of each item. During the summer, this list includes – water the plants. Somehow this item was clearly forgotten.

I jumped out of my car and into action. Check the soil – dry as a bone. Water. Add liquid fertilizer. And pray that my baby would pull through. 

The next morning I went out to check on the victim. Much to my surprise, a few purple flowers pressed their way through the carnage - a tiny glimpse of restoration. 

At this point, I had no choice but to give this poor plant a hack job of a haircut. I trimmed off everything dead (most of the plant), took a step back and thought, “Oh good grief, how long is it going to take for this plant to look normal again?” 

As the thought ran through my mind, I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. I’m in a season where I’m constantly asking the Lord a similar question, “How long until this struggle is over, Lord?”

The Messy Middle

The Lord teaches me a lot of life lessons through my garden, and right now, He is speaking into a struggle I like to call “the messy middle.”

The messy middle is the space in time before restoration. It’s the uncomfortable land of in-between where we crave healing, restoration, or clarity. 

This wonky plant of mine is most definitely in the messy middle – hah. But for humans, this space takes on all sorts of shapes and forms. For some it might be a rough patch in marriage, a difficult season of parenting, or waiting for healing from an injury or illness. For me, it’s often a term I use when anxiety rages and I wait for peace to show its face. 

And I think we can all take one quick look around the stressful climate of our world right now and easily slap the term “messy middle” on the current state of all the things – don’t you think? 

Whatever form it takes, I HATE the messy middle. It’s uncomfortable. It’s exhausting. And it requires a lot of patience and hope. But here’s the truth God keeps reminding me every time I find myself in one of these situations; there is goodness to be found in the mess.

Jesus Came in the Messy Middle

Romans 5:6-8 says, “You see, at just the right time, while we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” [NIV Translation]

While we were still powerless.
While we were still sinners.
Christ died for us. 

We have an awesome God who constantly enters hard and broken places to show us how much He loves us. There are examples all throughout scripture of how He does this (just think about the Israelites and how many times God saved them). But this passage is the ultimate example. 

Jesus intentionally came in the messy middle. He came while we were still sinners, so that in our brokenness we could experience the presence of God. 

Friends, God is the master of the messy middle! As easy as it is to get sucked into the heaviness that surrounds us and believe the lie that there is no hope to be found, we have to keep coming back to this truth. Not only does God show up in heavy places, He makes a life giving way through it. 

In Isaiah 43, God says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze…See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” – Isaiah 43: 2,19

This is what the Lord did for us through Jesus, and what He continues to do for us through the Holy Spirit every single day. 

Relying on God in the Messy Middle

In 2 Corinthians Paul talks about serious troubles - ones so heavy he struggled to endure them. And in verses 9-10 he speaks this truth, “Indeed we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us again. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us.” (NIV Translation)

Just as I’ve witnessed my hanging basket slowly come back to life post thirst and wonky haircut, I am confident that someday your struggle and mine will be over. But until that day comes, whether it is on this side of heaven or not, we have an opportunity to experience abundant life – and the secret is there in Paul’s words.  

Rely on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and He will deliver us again.

In the midst of struggle, we have two choices:

1. Focus on the pain and ask the Lord over and over again “How long until this struggle is over?”

2. Rely on Jesus, and experience the hope, joy, peace, and comfort that comes when we fix our eyes on Him

It is not easy – but I can wholeheartedly say that it’s in the moments I surrender my fears, worries, anger, or pain to the Lord and truly rely on Him where I experience more peace and relief than anything the world could offer.

Jesus came in the messy middle of our broken world so that we could live a life of abundance even when we’re hurting. No matter how dark and heavy our world is, that is the hope we have in Christ Jesus. As we navigate this heavy season in life, let’s stand our ground by setting our hope on the One who will continue to deliver us, and use our struggles as an opportunity to rely on Him.  

Fourth of July and the Contentment Killer

The week of the fourth of July has been one of my favorites for as long as I can remember – and it all has to do with our family cabin on the Chain of Lakes. Many summers growing up we would pack up the car and drive to the cottage to spend the week. We’d spend all day in the water, swimming, skiing, and floating, and nights were enjoyed around the campfire or a game of some sort (either board games or night games like Ghost in the Graveyard outside).

In 2020, the week of the fourth was the light shining in the darkness of the pandemic. A light that was quickly snuffed when my mom had a heart attack at the end of June and spent the fourth of July prepping for open-heart surgery. (Praise God for His provision and faithfulness to get her through that and on the other side!)

To say that we were full of anticipation to finally get to spend the week together this year is a large understatement.

Our time together was as wonderful as I could have hoped. But it was far from what I imagined the week would look like.

Instead of taking pontoon rides multiple times a day, adventuring to the sandbar, or venturing over to the Clearwater Harbor (the restaurant on the lake), and ending the nights around the table playing a board game or cards, this year our pace was slow.

At first I had a major case of FOMO (fear of missing out); not from something someone else was doing at the same time, but from comparing what we were currently doing to what we have done in the past.

I thought, oh goodness, we’re not doing any of the fun things we typically do! Ugh… this time won’t be as good if we don’t do those things…

But then I took one look around me – at my mom napping as the pontoon bobbed on the waves, at my sister soaking up the sun without kiddos needing her attention (both sleeping), at the book in my hand (the second of the week), and then at my dad, brother-in-law, and husband who just got back from a round of golf and were settling in to relax – and I realized, this is exactly what we all needed.  

I’ve been thinking a lot about how often comparison is the serial killer of contentment.

I think we’re all familiar with this idea especially in relation to social media where you compare your life to someone else’s and somehow feel less than when you look at your own. But the comparison I’m talking about is that which comes from weighing the difference between reality and our own expectations.

Allow me to explain.

How often do you have expectations for how a meal will taste and then end up disappointed because it wasn’t what you imagined? Or maybe you’re reading a book or watching a movie, and the plot doesn’t conclude how you thought? Or what about with your spouse – you think they read your mind to concoct the perfect date night but ended up planning something completely different?

When things like this occur, we end up comparing what happened to what we expected to happen and the result is often disappointment or frustration.

The only reason I questioned whether I was enjoying my time up north was because I unintentionally compared our activities to those of other years. BUT when I ditched the comparison game and let go of the illusion of unmet expectations, I was wholeheartedly content.

We had slow mornings, spent a lot of time on the dock, cooked meals at home, took a few night cruises on the pontoon, danced with glow sticks, laughed and rested a lot. It was truly wonderful.

What I’m realizing is - the key to locking up this kind of contentment serial killer is to go into a situation with one expectation – that no matter what happens, there is goodness to be found in it.

Every moment, no matter how hard or heavy it is, is laced with goodness because of the God who created us. When we go in with this one expectation, we strip away idealistic pictures and comparisons and open ourselves up to experience the Lord’s blessings in ways we might not anticipate.

So here’s my question and encouragement for you.

• What if you went in to each situation without expectations?

• What if instead of comparing your experience to what you thought was going to happen, you enjoyed it for it’s unique goodness?

• Wouldn’t the end result be contentment no matter what happened?

It’s not easy to let go of expectations or hold loosely to how things happened in the past, but the more that I practice this, the more I am pleasantly surprised by the unique goodness that each situation holds for me.

Want to join me in putting this into practice?

Going Gluten-Free

I’ve officially made it past the one-month mark of being gluten-free! And that feels worth celebrating. 

I’m a girl who loves bread, pasta, beer, donuts, basically all things gluten, so I was not thrilled when my naturopathic doctor recommended the shift in my diet. But, when she said it could play a role in preventing an autoimmune disorder down the road, I easily decided that is well worth the adjustment.

I do not typically make changes without lots and lots of research first. I’m known to read a gazillion reviews on Amazon before I buy something as simple as a backpack; I’m a researcher to a fault. So I shocked myself when I went into this big change without a plan. Although it was uncomfortable at times, it was freeing.

There’s been so much change rippling its way through my life as of late - a new nephew, my sister and her family moved from being two-minutes away to 30, plus all the pandemic adjustments – that when this gluten-free shift came into play I thought to myself, “Another change? Really? Well, let’s hurry up and get it over with already.”

At the time I was frustrated. I thought, “Really Lord? Now?” but in hindsight His perfect timing is what enabled me to think less and simply jump in. And it made the shift much less dramatic.

Here I am one month out, and although there were a few weeks of what felt like gluten withdrawal (yeah… apparently that is truly a thing) I feel settled, and I might, just might, be starting to physically feel a little better too. 

The other night my husband randomly applauded me as he dropped some gluten-free noodles into the pot to make homemade spaghetti. He said, “babe, I’m really proud of you for the way you just went for it. You didn’t complain, you dove in head first and you’ve been rocking it ever since.” This was such sweet affirmation.

Without realizing it, I relinquished control over this dietary shift and simply rode the waves of change into a new way of life. I’m locking this experience in my memory – reminding myself that change doesn’t always have to be hard and heavy, it can be smooth and light too.

I think that’s a testament to the Lord, and what life is like with Jesus. Matthew 11:29-30 says, “Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” Even though life with Jesus is not without trouble (He guarantees it won’t be) the burden is always lighter because He sustains us through it all.

Whatever waves of change you find yourself riding on today, let me encourage you that the more you relinquish control and press in to our wonderful savior, the lighter you’ll feel.

P.S. If you’re making the shift to being GF let me assure you - I’ve found some delicious GF beers, cookies, and am starting to find my way around some new recipes too! If you’re making the switch, don’t lose hope! There is goodness to be found in the gluten-free world!

God will sustain you

The last couple weeks have been a doozy. On Sunday, May 16th, my sweet sister brought my adorable nephew into the world – but nothing about his arrival has been what we expected. He shot out in less than 15 minutes of pushing (as opposed to the 6 hours it took to welcome my niece), landing himself in the doctor’s hands, my sister’s arms, and then much to everyone’s surprise the NICU.  

There’s more to be told about this story (stay tuned for that) and I covet your prayers for baby Leo who will hopefully be home soon – but right now the words that the Lord keeps writing on my heart, ones I feel led to share with you, are “I will sustain you.” 

There have been a few moments where I thought I might literally fall over from exhaustion. I’m doing everything I possibly can to help out my sister and brother-in-law – and honestly some moments I’ve thought, “whoa, Lord I don’t have the capacity for all of this. This is heavy – emotionally and physically.” And as quickly as the thought floated through my mind the Lord responded with a resounding – “You may not have the capacity, but I do.” 

God will sustain me.
God will sustain me. 
God will sustain me. 

As I sat on their couch one night, holding down the fort as my niece slept and my sister and brother-in-law headed off to the NICU to be with Leo, I did a deep dive into the word sustain. 

I’m a definition-loving kind of gal so that’s where I started. 

Sustain means: 

• to strengthen, support, or maintain

• to give relief to

• to supply with sustenance

Then I opened the concordance in my Bible to see where I could find this word in scripture. I had the Holy Spirit’s words, and the physical evidence that God was in fact sustaining me throughout this week, but I wanted to see what the Bible had to say about it. 

Friends, if you’re feeling drained – these scriptures are bound to boost you up. So I have to share them with you. (Each one comes from NIV translation. The emphasis added is my own). 

You give me your shield of victory, and your right hand sustains me; You stoop down to make me great. Psalm 18:35

Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous fall. Psalm 55:22

Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am He who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you. Isaiah 46:4

The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of His being, sustaining all things by His powerful word. Hebrews 1:3

This last one, doesn’t specifically contain the word sustain, but I am so glad that the concordance included it in the list because I think it’s my favorite one. Psalm 18:28 says, “You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; My God turns my darkness into light.”

That is exactly what the Lord has been doing for me, and for my family this week. He has kept our lamp burning, He has turned a heavy situation – the unknown, unexpected, uncomfortable waiting period before Leo comes home – into light because of how He cares for us.  

How are You feeling this week? 

Are these words like salve for your exhausted soul? 

My prayer for you today is that you would find the encouragement you need in the truth that God will sustain you. If you’re feeling weak and tired or like you might tip over from the weight you feel, pick one of these scriptures, write it on a piece of paper and tape it somewhere you can see it. 

You are not alone in the struggle that you feel this week – our MIGHTY God is sustaining you and He will not let you fall.

A tip for when you're questioning next steps

One day last month, I was working on a writing project and felt stuck. The kind of stuck that leads you down a rabbit hole to doubtful questions like, “What am I even doing?” “Why am I doing this?” “How can I possibly get this done?”

I wanted to hide under a blanket, but instead felt led to listen to a meditation through an online Christian yoga community that I’m a member of. 

I popped in my airpods, fell back onto the couch, and closed my eyes to listen to Caroline Williams - the teacher for this particular meditation - read the words from Genesis 12:1-2. 

The Lord had said to Abram, “Leave your country, your people and your father’s household and go to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you; I will make your name great and you will be a blessing.” 

 As she read through this passage, she asked us to simply listen and notice what jumped out at us. At the end of the reading, my eyes snapped open and a soft “wow” slipped out of my lips. The words I heard from the Lord were unmistakable.

 As clear as day, what I heard was – Go. I will show you. I will make your name great. 

It’s a challenging world being a writer. If you want to publish a book, the fastest path is to have thousands upon thousands of followers on social media, as well as a mega email list. Seeing as how I have neither of those things just yet, it can be really easy for me to feel defeated and think, “Okay Lord, you’re leading me to write these words, but how can I publish them with so little?”

I imagine Abram asking a similar question when God told him that He would make him into a great nation. I’m old. My wife is barren. And you’re telling me you’re going to make me into a great nation? Really, Lord? HOW?

The instructions the Lord gives to Abram are simple. 

He doesn’t say how. 
He doesn’t say when. 
He doesn’t give any particulars. 
He simply says, “Go. I will show you.”

The Lord Brings the Fruit

In the way of the world, success is all about taking things into our own hands and clawing our way to the top. It’s DIY all the way, whatever the cost. 

Success from a kingdom perspective is pretty much the complete opposite. It’s doing the work while recognizing that it’s all about the Lord and He is the one who brings the fruit. As John 15:5 says, “If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”

When we look at Abram’s story (he was called Abram before the Lord later changed his name to Abraham) we get to see a prime example of how the Lord brings the fruit; He is the one who fulfills the promise. But first, and what I really appreciate about his story, we get to see Abram try to make it happen on his own.  

Here’s a quick snapshot of what happens:

• God gives Abram super simple instructions and a promise that He will make his name great and bless him with many descendants. 

• Abram questions God, doubts God, and tries to take matters into his own hands – even so far as to impregnate his servant since his wife was barren. 

• Abram laughs when God tells him that his wife will indeed have a son at the age of ninety (Genesis 17:7 literally says, “Abraham fell facedown; he laughed…” and later in chapter 18 it says that Sarah laughed too.) 

This story cracks me up because it’s so relatable, is it not?

Abram tries to DIY his way into the promise God has for him. But then the Lord does exactly what He says He will do in a miraculous way that only He could; He fulfills His promise through a 90-year-old infertile Sarai who bears a son. 

All Abram had to do was listen to the Lord’s simple instruction to GO and trust that the Lord would show him and indeed fulfill His promise of making his name great. He could have skipped all of the tampering and all of the hustling attempts to make it happen in his own way. But even with the meddling, God still kept His promise. 

Go. I will show you.

What the Lord has been showing me through this story is I put so much pressure on myself to try and have my writer life all figured out. The most optimal posting pattern on Instagram, the proper system for scheduling writing time, the perfect phrasing of my book proposal so I can land my dream agent. But with the Lord as the vine – as the head of my calling, and everything I do – I don’t have to have it all figured out. 

Can you relate? Are you questioning next steps? Or putting pressure on yourself to have some aspect of your life or your work all figured out? 

This simple mantra from Genesis 12 – “Go. I will show you. I will make your name great.” – prompted a much-needed shift in my writing. I went from trying to make it happen in my own way to following the Lord’s leading and leaving the growth up to Him.

And guess what – the fruit has been obvious! 

Since I loosened my grip (which is a daily letting go, might I add), I have:

• grown my following and gained momentum on social media

• had a lot more fun planning content

• received encouragement and affirmation about what I’m sharing

• experienced more peace and joy

I get to do the work and worship Him through the words I write.
He brings the fruit. 

A Simple Mantra for When You’re Questioning Next Steps

When you’re questioning your next step, or trying to have it all figured out, consider these three takeaways from Genesis 12. 

1. Go – take a step in faith, even if you don’t know what follows

2. The Lord will show you – trust that the Lord goes before you and will lead you in the way you should go

3. The Lord will make your name great – the Lord loves you and wants you to live life to the fullest. Trust that, and know that He will bless you and He will bring the fruit 

If you’re getting hung up on the last one, let me affirm you one last time by going back to the words of Genesis. Take note of one repetitive word – “I”.

The Lord had said to Abram, “Leave your country, your people and your father’s household and go to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you; I will make your name great and you will be a blessing.” 

I will show you.
I will make you into a great nation. 
I will bless you. 
I will make your name great and you will be a blessing.  

Friend, it is all up to Him. We get to take the pressure off, be faithful to our Father and trust that He is true to His word because He is. Every. Single. Time. 

Just like in Abram’s story, if the Lord is leading you towards something, and you follow Him faithfully (even if you try to take matters into your own hands), there is nothing that will keep Him from bringing the fruit.

Why it's helpful to take a breath at each transition

When I lift weights, my favorite exercise to do is squats; they make me feel powerful – like I’m strengthening every part of my body with one simple movement. But I’ve been struggling lately with getting my form right. No matter what adjustment I make in my posture, I end up with tightness in my pelvic floor.

Let’s pause for a second and talk about the pelvic floor. The pelvic floor is a group of muscles that form a hammock attaching at the pubic bone, tailbone, and the walls of the pelvis. This hammock is what supports our bladder, intestines, and for women, the uterus – without it, these organs could fall to the floor (okay, that’s a little dramatic, but it’s not too far from the truth).

Never have I ever learned more about this invaluable muscle in my body until I started having troubles with it. Throughout the pandemic I came to learn about my pelvic floor as a problematic area that caused tightness in my tailbone, carried tension from anxiety, and now I know – a crucial component when I’m lifting weights.

So why on earth am I sharing all of this about the pelvic floor?
What could this possibly have to do with encouraging you?

The key to a happy pelvic floor is breath.

I’ve been working hard on breathing deeply and expanding my diaphragm to help my pelvic floor loosen and contract as it should. And as I do, I keep coming up with this question: What if taking a breath is the secret sauce to finding strength in all areas of our life?

We live in a fast paced, hurry and hustle, culture. We go through life rapidly jumping from one thing to the next. Just look at social media. Scroll, scroll, scroll, and on to the next photo or video without even a millisecond in between. Even Netflix, doesn’t want us to pause before watching another episode – “the next episode starts in 5…4…3…2…1”

In so many ways we are trained to go without breath. 

On one particular day I went from the grocery store, home to write an Instagram post, hopped from one phone call to another, worked on more writing, and then turned on Netflix at the end of the day to unwind. I didn’t even take a second, not one second, to pause before I tapped the Apple TV remote and turned on my latest show. There was absolutely no break in between.

Think about your day leading up to this moment. Did you pause in between the various activities of your day? Or did each activity flow immediately into the next?  

If we don’t take time to breathe, we rob ourselves of so many things:

• a calm nervous system

• a relaxed body

• a properly functioning pelvic floor, as I’m learning

• and most importantly… quiet moments of stillness to hear the Lord speak

We have an awesome God who actively speaks to us. He speaks to us through His word, and He speaks to us in our every day lives through the Holy Spirit. Even if we’re overly busy, He finds a way to speak to us – we are so blessed in that regard. But, what if all it took to hear the Lord more, was a little more breath? 

Take a breath at each transition

I’d like to offer you one simple way to add more breath today:
Instead of rushing through your day, take a breath at each transition. 

I heard a yoga instructor use this phrase – take a breath at each transition – in an online slow flow class I took recently. The beauty of yoga is the synchronicity of breath and movement; the shift from pose to pose is led by inhales and exhales. But even in yoga, sometimes the flow is nonstop.

In this particular class, we took intentional longer pauses to breathe before transitioning to a new pose. And it nourished my nervous system.

As you go through your day today, pay attention to the moments of transition.

• The moment you’re walking to your car to go pick up groceries.

• The moment you hear your child call your name after waking up from a nap.

• The moment at the end of the day when you crash onto your couch ready for some much needed mindless time.

In these moments of transition, pause to breathe. As you inhale and exhale, take notice of how your body feels, and thank the Lord for the blessings you’ve seen that day.

I’ve been practicing this the past week and it has helped me find pockets of calm in the midst of a really busy week. Beyond sustaining me, here’s the ultimate why - the more we practice this simple act of taking a breath in the transition – the more we open ourselves up to experience the stillness that comes from knowing Christ Jesus.

My prayer is that you might experience peace and breath this week, no matter what your calendar holds. If you try it, and you feel like it’s impactful, will you email me? Just tap this link and let me know how it went. I’d love to celebrate alongside you.

How and why I'm practicing stillness to better connect with the Lord

For the past six months, I have been on a mission to find rest. I started with my old bag of tricks. Yoga. Minimize the social calendar (well, Covid did that for me, really).  Lay on the couch for a day of binging my latest show on Netflix.

These helped, a little bit. But not enough. So I kept digging. Maybe I still have too much planned. Maybe I need to get in nature more. Maybe it’s an imbalance in my writing life.

The last one led me to a course put out by Go and Tell Gals called Inhale + Exhale (sounds appropriate, right?). Its focus is to help you build life-giving rhythms that will help you thrive spiritually and live with passion.  

The first week of this self-paced e-course was all about developing worshipful rhythms and prioritizing them in our daily lives. Unbeknownst to me at the time, in this lesson was the key to my mission and my word for 2021: stillness. 

My word for 2021: stillness

Jess Connolly, the leader of Go and Tell Gals and teacher of the course, encouraged us to brainstorm practices that help us experience God. Things like reading the Bible, journaling, spending time with others, or worship. And then she challenged us to pick one way we don’t typically practice being with God – the example she shared from her own life, stillness.  

I nodded along in agreement as she shared how it does not come naturally to her. I, too, struggle with this. I’m good at slowing down. But putting everything else aside to simply sit and be in the Lord’s presence – not my forte.  

I paused and wrote STILLNESS in all caps in my notebook. What’s crazy is, this wasn’t the first time this word, and the concept of being still before the Lord, had been brought to my mind. In this moment it became very clear, stillness was the word the Lord had given me for 2021.

A working definition of stillness 

The practice of choosing a word is not something I do every single year. But when, like this year, a specific word comes to focus my favorite place to start is with a working definition. 

Stillness according to Google is “the absence of movement or sound.” It’s pretty easy to deduct this meaning, but what I really wanted to know was the Lord’s definition. So I went to the Bible where I found the word “still” in 9 different places.  

One of my favorite findings is in the story where the Lord parts the Red Sea. Exodus 14:13-14 says, “Moses answered the people, ‘Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” (NIV, emphasis added is my own) 

What was happening at this time was, Moses was leading the Israelites out of Egypt. They were on their way when Pharaoh changed his mind about letting them go and sent an army after them. The Israelites cried out to Moses questioning why the Lord would lead them out if they were only to then die in the desert. To this Moses responds with the verses above and encourages them to “be still.”  

What’s interesting to me is what God says in the next verse. “Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on.”  

So wait, one second God says “be still” and the next He says, “move?” It’s here in what appears to be a contradiction (but surely isn’t) that I found my working definition for stillness.  

When I think of stillness, the first thing that pops into my mind is the physical aspect. Stopping what you’re doing, sitting on the couch, maybe lying down. But clearly God isn’t telling the Israelites to be still in the physical manner or else He wouldn’t immediately say to Moses, “tell them to move on”. Rather, the stillness referenced here in Exodus, is one of the mind.

The Israelites were clearly freaking out. They imagined themselves dying here in the desert. So their minds were most likely a tornado of panic, fear, and confusion. In this moment, they didn’t need to be physically still, they needed to quiet the chaos running through their minds and trust that God would do what He said He would do. 

And He did! The Lord performed a miracle by parting the Red Sea so the Israelites could cross and as soon as they had, He released the waters so the Egyptians would perish. 

My working definition birthed from this story is: Stillness – the act of quieting my mind to connect with the Lord.  

Isaiah 30:15 describes this type of stillness as it says, “This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel says: ‘In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.’”  

The benefits of practicing stillness

Psalm 46:10 – the most well known verse relating to the topic – describes the greatest reward of practicing stillness in this way. “Be still and know that I am God.” 

When we are able to quiet our minds and focus our thoughts on the Lord we get to know Him better.  

And as we do, we get to:

• know His heart, His Word, and His promises

• solidify our trust in Him as we know He is faithful

• recognize His presence

• hear His voice through the Holy Spirit

• give Him praise for who He is

The last couple months not only have I been struggling with exhaustion, I have also been feeling disconnected from the Lord, and now it’s abundantly clear as to why. When we allow our minds to be constantly full of what we see on the news, what’s going on in the world around us, what we scroll on social media, or even our own thoughts and fears, we lose out on the incredible connection we find with the Lord in the quiet.   

More stillness = more connection

But the benefits don’t stop there. Here are just a few:

• physical rest

• activate the parasympathetic nervous system (which balances the fight-flight-freeze system)

• quiet what ifs

• minimize anxiety by steadying on the Lord

• quiet the noise of the world

• gain clarity with less distraction

• better focus on what matters

• discernment – for decisions and speaking truth to lies

How to practice stillness 

After coming up with my working definition – the act of quieting my mind to connect with the Lord – I brainstormed practical ways I could actually make it happen. I broke it down into four different categories: social media, phone, body, and mind.  

In case you want to practice stillness and could use ideas of how, here are a few practical ways I came up with.  

Social Media:

• no social media until I’m out of bed

• stop use after X time of night (still working on this one)

• limit during writing projects (unless it’s purposeful)

• take days or weekends off

• be aware of mindless scrolling, turn it off when it’s clearly only for distraction or procrastination

 Phone:

• don’t take with me into the bathroom (anyone else noticed how much longer we all take when we go to the bathroom because of this? Haha)

• leave my phone in another room

• minimize habitual pick-ups/check-ins

• instead of texting a friend or scrolling in the in-between moments, put the phone down and just be still

• no phone in bed

Body:

• days for sleeping in

• practice yoga regularly

• try meditation

• plan a day on the calendar with no to-dos

• get monthly massages

• workout – listen to my body for days of rest

Mind:

For this category I brainstormed things that would help me quiet my mind in an active sort of way.

• fun with my niece

• drive to sit by the lake

• quarterly solo getaways up north

• work at coffee shops for more focused time away from home

• fun with fun people – games, laughter, things that give a brain break

• reading fiction

• date nights with the hubby without our phones

• lectio divina – a slow, intentional way of meditating on the Word 

There are many more ideas I could add, but having a running list of practical ways to practice stillness feels like a great place to start. It’s a process to break free from the constant go-go-go, both physically and in my mind – so I am trying to give myself freedom to explore these options, change it up, and just see what works.

How stillness impacts peace

Here’s my ultimate why behind these practices– the thing that gets me most excited about choosing this word for my year.

The way I see it, stillness is both an action and something that we get to experience. The more we practice the act of being still – quieting our mind – the more we get to experience the abundance of stillness that comes from knowing Christ Jesus.

In John 16:33 Jesus says, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” 

Jesus is the master of stillness and peace. He is literally capable of calming a raging sea. You can read the story of when he did it in Mark 4:39, or read Psalm 89:8-9 that says, “O Lord God Almighty, who is like you? You are mighty, O Lord, and your faithfulness surrounds me. You rule over the surging sea; when its waves mount up, you still them.” 

This world is a mess. The brokenness, chaos, and unrest is mounting. BUT, the stillness we get to experience through Jesus is what enables us to not only withstand anything that comes our way but also find rest and peace right in the midst of it.  

The practice of choosing stillness through something as simple as leaving my phone in another room might seem insignificant. But when the practice of it helps me quiet my mind, connect with the Lord and thus tap into His ultimate stillness – that makes building the habit every bit worth it.

Want to join me? 

When I imagine my word of the year a visual pops into my head. Picture me sitting in a chair in the middle of a room buzzing with activity; lots of people zoom by, noise of constant chatter fills the space, and screens blaring the latest chaos of the world float through the air. As soon as I close my eyes, the noise mutes and the motion blurs. The scene in the room hasn’t changed. The activity carries on, as does the chaos of the world around me. But I am unaffected by all the movement; I am completely still.  

My hope and prayer is that I become so good at practicing stillness that I can make the visual I described above my reality. I want to be so grounded in the Lord, that no matter what comes my way, when I fix my eyes on Him I am unshaken. And friends, I think it’s possible.  

The more we quiet our minds and fix our eyes on Jesus, the more we ground ourselves in our Savior and experience the abundance of Him who is steady, firm, and full of peace.  

Our awesome God invites us with open arms to experience all the abundance that is within Him. We don’t have to earn the opportunity. We simply have to make a constant choice to fix our eyes on Him.  

If you’ve been on the hunt for a word for the year, and this one resonated with you, I hope you adopt it as your own! I’d love to be on the quest to practice stillness with you.

Looking back on 2020

If I had to choose one Bible verse to describe the wild year of 2020 it would be Hebrews 12:11 that says, “No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”

Although I can easily label 2020 as challenging and painful at times, I would also reward the year as being one I learned more about peace, relinquishing control, and depending on God.

Would I rather none of us had to live through the brokenness that has filled this year? Absolutely. But in the same breath it’s out of that brokenness that we get to see the incredible strength and beauty that comes from our Father.

As much as I wish this last year looked a lot different, I couldn’t trade it in. There was so much goodness to be had amidst the hard, and a lot of life lessons that are making me a stronger person because of it.

A time of reflection

It took me longer than I thought it would to reflect on 2020 because in my head I thought, “well, not much happened this year at all thanks to Covid.” But when I looked through my journals I realized a lot happened, even if a good chunk of it was within my heart.

Last year I shared the reflection method that the senior pastor of our church recommended through a sermon titled Practices for a New Year from the Psalms. I loved this practice so much that I repeated it this year. I looked through the photos on my phone, watched old Instagram stories, and paged through my journals to note highlights as well as themes of growth.

This year gets a whole lot of flack for being the worst so I wanted to take the time to share (for myself and for you) some of the greatness that came out of this year. Here are five highlights and five ways I’ve grown through 2020.

5 highlights from 2020

Our backyard oasis

When I scrolled through my photo roll from this past summer, it was very clear that our backyard was my happy place. It’s been a work in progress for years but this year it felt like everything came together. My flowers flourished, our vegetable garden overflowed, we strung cozy lights over the patio, and Chris got me a fire pit for my birthday.

In a year where most time spent with others took place outside, this had the Lord’s provision stamped all over it. I drank my coffee on the patio, had lots of hang time with family, played games, watched movies by the fire, friends gathered for happy hour. It was such a gift.

Ticket to Ride

I giggled when I scrolled through my Instagram stories and saw just how much we played the game we refer to as Trains with my sister and brother-in-law. I ordered the game on a whim off Amazon in February and let me tell you, that game brought life to the days of quarantine. It was the first thing we did when we decided it was safe for us to all hang out together, and it was a common source of both joy and healthy distraction when it felt like the world was crumbling more than we thought possible.

It was also a catalyst for a lot of time spent with my sister and brother-in-law. We are very close, both relationally and in proximity, but I think it’s fair to say that this year especially we spent A LOT of time together.

My mom’s heart surgery

It might seem crazy to add this to a list of highlights because, of course, I would never ever wish open-heart surgery on anyone. But, the entire process was drenched in the Lord’s protection and provision so I can’t help but highlight the way He moved.  

Here are a few ways I saw God in it:

The heart attack didn’t do any permanent damage. Instead it was a catalyst that helped doctors discover and take care of blockages that could have taken mom from us.

It happened during a time in the pandemic when hospitals loosened rules on guests. One guest was allowed – so praise God, my dad was able to be with my mom in the hospital room. He was there every single day, every waking hour until they kicked him out.

Mom’s double bypass went smoothly and she recovered amazingly. A few days after surgery her nurses commented about how she looked incredible and was leap years ahead of typical heart surgery patients.

With a healthier and better functioning heart, mom’s body can now fight illnesses off better than before. This too is a great blessing as we live in the midst of a pandemic.

Lots of yummy meals

There were a few things that popped up super regularly in my photos: my niece (duh, she’s so cute and I love her a ton) and lots of really yummy meals.

I am extremely blessed to have a husband who not only loves to cook but is really, really good at it. Combine that with the gift of time since he has been working from home and hasn’t been traveling, and what do you get? A lot of good food. 

I’ve told him several times – you have kept me alive in this pandemic. And I mean it. There were weeks where I felt so heavy and full of anxiety that if I had been left to my own devices, I probably would’ve eaten pretzels or cereal all week. It was a huge blessing that I will have a hard time giving up when he starts traveling for work again someday. 

Intentional getaways

Getaways have always been life-giving. But in this difficult year, they were sustaining. We escaped as much as we could to our family lake home up north. We took mini-getaways just the two of us both up north, and for our anniversary we did a little staycation at The Iron Horse where we spent our wedding night. I had my annual college roomie trip at our lake home. (Basically a lot of time was spent up north).

These little getaways were a huge blessing because with a change of scenery they brought breath, fresh perspective, and an important reminder that joy and sadness can coexist.

5 lessons I’ve learned in 2020

1.    Relinquishing control – I constantly crave control. (Not like “I want to boss of everyone” but more like “I want to know what’s happening so I know how to react or how to prepare for the worst”). I’ve known that for some time now, but something about all the unknowns and lack of control over anything related to the pandemic made me realize just how deep it’s claws sink into my soul. The important correlation I’ve learned – anxiety is largely rooted in a desire for control.

I could easily label 2020 as the year of letting go. Letting go of expectations, letting go of control, and as a result, learning to let go of anxiety. I’ve grown a lot in relinquishing control, but this certainly isn’t a one and done type of lesson. It’s one I have to continually work on every day. 

2.    Freedom comes from depending more fully on God –This one works in hand in hand with learning to let go of control. When we relinquish control we depend more on God. When we depend more on God, we in turn relinquish control.

There were moments during the pandemic where I felt like I literally could do nothing other than depend fully on the Lord. The feeling of being completely out of control was extremely uncomfortable, but then I realized there is sweet, sweet freedom that comes from depending fully on Him. My prayer is that I never forget those dark moments where He was the only thing sustaining me – I want to lean on Him like that every day.  

3.    Growth in handling and bouncing back from panic attacks – I wish this was not a lesson I had to learn, I’d rather panic attacks just be completely MIA from my life. But, I am so thankful that the Lord has helped me learn how to better handle and bounce back from panic attacks.

Whereas in the past they would shut me down for at least the whole next day, I have learned to see a panic attack coming, ride it out when it arrives, see it for what it was, and be able to continue with my day.

Is it still impactful? Absolutely. Panic attacks require work from our nervous system, so our bodies most definitely need support as they come down from the episode and adjust to find balance. But, the more I’ve experienced them, the more information I gather about my body and thus the better I can extend grace and compassion to myself, and take away a bit of the panic attacks’ power. 

4.    Advocating for myself – This was an area of growth I might not have recognized had I not taken the time to reflect (one of the many reasons I am a fan of reflection). Last year, it was one of my goals to advocate better for myself – in regards to my mental health, my life as a married woman without kiddos, and in my career as a writer.  

I have had a lot of practice in advocating for myself throughout 2020, and I’ve gotten a lot better at it. It can be uncomfortable to stand up for yourself and speak your truth, but the benefits far outweigh the cost.

5.    Worst-case scenarios often don’t come true – I spent a lot of time dreaming up worst-case scenarios in the past year. I injured my gum and convinced myself surgery was the only way to fix it. I was certain that pain in my tailbone was irreparable, that I would need a terrifying surgery, and that even with the surgery it would not get better. I vividly imagined ending up in the hospital and dying alone due to Covid. And not one of these scenarios came true.

Over and over again the Lord has compassionately taught me it’s time I stop giving worst case scenarios so much power. This is another lesson that needs continual work, but I am so thankful for the way the Lord continues to show me that time spent panicking about what most likely won’t come true, does not benefit me. Trusting in Him and that He will walk with me and help me endure whatever scenario comes my way – that does.

Stepping boldly into 2021

As I wrote this reflection, I took time to peek back at last year’s reflection. I ended it with these words “my prayer is that you can walk confidently into the New Year, knowing that the Lord is before you and He will give you the strength no matter what comes your way. Here’s to 2020 friends, I cannot wait to see what is in store.”

Oh man, it makes me giggle a little bit to read those words now knowing just how much went down in the last year. But the encouragement for what came our way was pretty spot on. The Lord proved and continues to prove time and time again that we get to walk confidently because He will give us strength to endure anything and everything. 

I’ve seen a lot of jokes saying we should tiptoe into 2021 because who knows what is going to happen after this last year we just had. But I think we can (and should) do much better than tiptoe. Because of Christ, we get to STEP BOLDLY and CONFIDENTLY into the year ahead of us. No matter what comes our way, our feet are solid and firm when we are rooted in Him as Psalm 37:23 says, “The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in Him.”

You know who wants us to tiptoe into 2021? The evil one. He wants us to sheepishly enter this year as if we’re afraid to awaken another beast. He loves when we live in fear. Well, I want nothing to do with that.  

I want to slam my feet into the ground and walk proudly, confidently, and boldly in the mission the Lord has for me. I want to fully embrace the authority the Lord has given me through Jesus to make the evil one run for the hills. And I hope that you’ll join me.  

No more tiptoeing. Let’s be bold, make Jesus’ name known, and demolish strongholds for His glory.

 Here’s to 2021, friends. Let’s take strong steps in Jesus’ name, together.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas friends and family! 

I am so happy to be here wishing you a merry Christmas and celebrating the birth of our savior Jesus Christ. There has been so much goodness laced into the messiness of 2020 and I am excited to share a tiny bit of what’s been happening in our corner of the world through our virtual Christmas card.

Without further ado, here’s a virtual Christmas card from us to you!

What’s new with work?

C: I am still working away as Executive Director at CIBC-Cleary Gull. After a few slow weeks at the beginning of the pandemic, activity picked back up. The biggest change for me has been working from home since March with little to no travel. After months sitting at a card table in our basement, I built myself a desk and am settling in as we have no current plans of returning to the office anytime soon. I feel very blessed that my job has remained steady throughout the pandemic.

M: As a writer who already worked from home, not much has changed for me – other than now having a co-worker in my space, haha. I am missing working in coffee shops due to the pandemic, but am learning to adjust my rhythms and write whenever, wherever, and whatever the Lord lays on my heart in this season. This past year I was published in Grit & Virtue, The Kindred Voice, and just recently was featured on The Kindred Convos podcast talking about how to support a friend with anxiety.

Unexpected Blessing this year

C: Spending more time with Mindy is number one. I’ve also really enjoyed completing some house projects that’ve been on my list forever, and getting back into working out.

M: Hands down, the extra time with Chris. Pre-pandemic, Chris did a lot of traveling for work, and had a lot of later evenings at the office. Getting to see him when he pops up for a cup of coffee, and with no travel, actually getting to eat meals together most, if not all, days really is a huge gift. I am soaking up this extra time with him.

Favorite carry out meal 

C & M: We both agree that our 4-course carry out anniversary dinner from Sanford, a delicious local restaurant, easily tops our list of carry out meals. The exquisite meal was a fully crafted menu with two elevated appetizers (one with elk sausage, that was our favorite dish of the night), an entrée (mine with beef tenderloin and Chris’ with shrimp and scallop), topped off with a chocolate tart and a carmelized fig tart – all with wine pairings to go with the tasting menu. It was outstanding. Highly recommend if you’re celebrating something and want an out of the box (hah literally, cause it’s carry out), high-end meal.

Songs you’re loving right now 

C: “Sweet Victory” by Trip Lee and “Unapologetically Country as Hell” by Hardy

M: “Heavenly Hosts” by For King and Country and  “Into the Sea” by Tasha Layton 

A top moment in 2020

C: Since the pandemic has made travel difficult, every time I get to see my family (who lives 6.5 hours away in Minnesota) has been a blessing. Another cool opportunity I had this year was to golf Whistling Straits and Black Wolf Run, two of the top courses in the state of Wisconsin. I won’t mention my scores (haha), but it was a ton of fun to golf those beautiful courses.  

M: The first time we went up north as a family after my mom’s heart surgery. If you didn’t know, my mom had a heart attack followed by open-heart surgery in July. It shook our world, but God was so faithful through it. Being together again for the first time at our family lake cabin after her surgery and recovery felt like such a sweet celebration of the Lord’s provision and protection through the entire scary process. I still can’t believe it happened, and if you saw my mom and the way she has healed and is rearing to go, you wouldn’t either. God blessed us richly in the way He cared for my mama.

I am honestly not sure how I would have made it through some of the challenges this year held if it weren’t for Jesus. “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:4-5

Seasons of darkness are really challenging, but they are also a mixed blessing because it’s in the dark that a glimpse of light is even more brilliant. In the heaviness of this year, we have seen Jesus work so clearly it’s unmistakable.

In the darkness, He has been our light.
In the heavy moments, He has been our hope.
In the anxious ones, He has been our peace.

For such a time as this crazy weird year, God sent Jesus to earth, as a baby in a manger, so that He might experience life as we know it. He could’ve come up with a different plan to save us, but He came as a human so that He might know our pain, sympathize with our weakness, and know exactly what we need to endure it.

This year was hard for all of us. And it feels odd to celebrate Christmas without some of the traditions we normally keep. But nothing can change the fact that we get to celebrate the gift the Lord gave us through Christ – and friends, this year I want to be loud about it. No matter what comes our way we get to rely on a Savior who has gone before us, made a way for us to have peace and light in the darkness, and holds everything that is to come in the palm of His hand.

If you need hope, light, or peace – turn to Jesus, dear friends. He is so good, so worthy of our praise, and He is why we celebrate.

P.S. All of these photos of Chris and I were taken by Cassie Rosch, an extremely talented local photographer.
We really enjoyed spending time with her during our anniversary session in November, and we are so thankful for the amazing photos she captured.
I can’t wait to share more with you in the future.

How to make decisions that will support your mental health during the pandemic

Last week was a tough one for me. Facing the decision of what to do about Thanksgiving – whether we would get together with a larger group of extended family members, or keep it small with just the immediate family – was really challenging. 

I suffered from serious decision fatigue – you know, the exhaustion that comes from either having to make too many decisions in one day or analyzing one particular decision from so many angles that you can’t even think straight any longer, let alone land on an actual decision. And it wore heavily on my body and on my mental health. 

As I talked over and over and over again with my husband, we cycled through the risks, the benefits, the pros and cons and both of us felt uncomfortably stuck. I noticed this decision was starting to wear on Chris, and as he doesn’t usually struggle with decisions like I do, I realized “ Wow. Okay, no more weighing, it’s time to land the plane. This is wrecking both of us.” 

Throughout this deciding process I realized a few things that I wanted to share with you in hopes of helping you make decisions that will support your mental health during the pandemic.

Don’t make decisions based on fear 

As I visited and revisited the options at hand, I noticed myself starting to entertain what ifs. What if someone at the family gathering has Covid and we don’t know it? What if I get it? What if I then pass it to my family? What if my mom gets it? What I my dad gets it? What if one of them, both with heart disease, passes away – because of me?

What if I actually have Covid and unbeknownst to me, give it to someone and they end up in the hospital? Can I bear the weight of that?

These fear-filled what ifs wreaked havoc on my body: my chest tightened, my shoulders crept up to my ears, and my breathing shallowed. It was in these terrible what if questions that I realized – making a decision based on fear is not healthy or helpful.

I could what if myself to death. I could focus on the terrible outcomes that I made up in my head, and make my decision to avoid the sheer possibility that they might come true. But at what cost?  

If we make decisions based on fear we enable our bodies to live in fear. And friends, guess what that breeds – anxiety. 

When we experience anxiety, we come face to face with our body’s natural reaction of fight or flight. Our body is created by the Lord to recognize that there is something threatening and so it reacts. In and of itself, this is a healthy response. But, the way our God-given “jump from a snake before your brain even thinks about it” anxiety becomes crippling, debilitating, unhealthy anxiety is through an unchallenged habit of learning to live in fear.

Our bodies are very smart creations – the Lord made us fearfully and wonderfully. If you tell your body over and over to be afraid of the virus, afraid of the worst-case scenarios you have dreamed up in your mind, it learns to be afraid. And it will start to show. Your nervous system will learn to be constantly on edge, waiting for a fight or flight moment to come. 

If we want to minimize our anxiety in this pandemic, we have to be intentional about not making decisions out of fear. 

In the world we live in right now, this day of the virus, there is plenty to be afraid of. Would getting the virus and a family member ending up in the hospital or passing away be scary? Absolutely. BUT if we are living in a state of constant fear of this happening, not only are we negatively impacting our bodies, we are not acting as sons and daughters of God who know that no matter what comes our way, or our loved ones’ way, He will hold us tight and sustain us. 

We cannot and must not live in fear.

Make decisions based on your health _ physical, mental, and spiritual. 

If you’re thinking, “okay Mindy this all makes sense but now what? How do I actually go about making these kinds of decisions without basing them on the fear of the virus?” Allow me to offer you an alternative. 

Instead of making decisions based on fear – flip the script and make decisions to support your health – physical, mental, and spiritual. 

After deciding that we would not make our decision based on fear, we recognized that the best decision we could make in this instance was one that supported our mental health.  Largely my mental health. 

In this particular week, my nervous system was already on edge and my mental capacity was low. I could sense that anxiety and fear-filled what ifs would come more easily if we attended a larger group gathering. So, we made the tough decision to forego an extended family get together and only spend time with our immediate families. 

Coming to this conclusion was not easy. And if I’m being honest, it was hard to feel like the main reason we weren’t going was because of the state of my mental health. But what I’m learning in this crazy year of 2020 is that making decisions that support my mental health does not make me weak; it actually shows that I’m listening to my body and choosing to honor it. And that, my friends, takes strength.

How to make a decision that will support your mental health during the pandemic

The next time you wrestle with making a decision related to the pandemic remember these tips:

·      Don’t make decisions based on fear.

·      Make decisions based on your health – physical, mental, and spiritual. 

Listen to your body – pay close attention to your physical, mental, and spiritual health, and most importantly, ask the Lord to guide you.

Galatians 4:6-7 says, “Because you are his sons, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, “Abba, Father.” So you are no longer a slave, but God’s child; and since you are his child, God has made you also an heir.”

We are children of God, heirs to His throne through Christ, and we get to use the authority that He gave us to make decisions right here in the midst of this pandemic. If you’re stuck in the endless cycle of indecision, press in to Him, ask the Holy Spirit for wisdom and let His peace guide you. 

We are in this together, friends. 

Hope for when you don't feel productive

A couple years ago, my husband built two raised garden beds for our tiny, just big enough to play a bag of corn hole, backyard. Made of two-by-fours and square posts, each rectangle garden full of soil sits at the edge of our lot line about four feet off the ground – a comfortable height for planting, pruning, and harvesting. 

This year we planted an assortment of vegetables including jalapeño peppers, banana peppers, a couple lettuces, and my favorite, a delicious variety of tomatoes. 

One day this summer, I strained over the edge of the garden bed to reach what looked like a juicy, ripe grape tomato. I wove my hand through green leaves, around the hearty stalk, and grasped the fruit between my thumb and forefinger. I expected the tomato to leave the plant willingly, but it required more of a yank than a gentle pluck. Now in my hand I could see why, the tomato was right on the edge of ripe, but not quite there yet. 

When a tomato is fully ripe and ready to be harvested, you hardly have to touch the fruit at all before it jumps into your hand. It’s as if the plant knows it’s ready to be eaten so instead of holding on, it releases the tomato with only the slightest of encouragement.  

As I held the not-yet-ripe tomato in my hand, the Lord placed an analogy on my heart. The struggle to pluck a tomato that is not quite ready is much like when we try to make things happen before the Lord’s timing. 

When you don’t feel productive 

I’ve been wrestling with my writer life as of late. I have a strong desire to write meaningful words and grow my audience. And yet here I sit feeling like I’ve got nothing to give. 

As I questioned myself and wondered why I can’t pour words onto a page like I crave, I came to a challenging conviction best summarized by these words from the Message translation of John 15 verse four.  

“Live in me. Make your home in me just as I do in you. In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me.” 

This well-known analogy, where Jesus says, “I am the vine; you are the branches,” continues to grow on me as my love for gardening blossoms. (Hah - I couldn’t resist the puns). And what struck me as I revisited the passage this time, were four simple words, “I am the vine.” 

I, Mindy Larsen, am not the vine. He is. 
Thus…
I am not the one who makes the fruit. He is. 

If I feel like I am struggling to bear fruit, then it leads me to ask the question – am I intentionally tapping in to the vine? 

Tapping in to the vine

 When I try to produce fruit on my own, it’s as if I’m attempting to be the vine. Well, no wonder I don’t feel productive, that’s not the role God has for me.  

In John 15:5 Jesus says, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me, and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.”  NIV translation

The good news is, I don’t have to question whether I will bear fruit because Jesus confidently says, “You WILL bear much fruit.” But the condition is this: if you remain intentionally tapped in to the vine, then you will bear much fruit. 

Just like a ripened tomato falls into the palm of our hand when it’s ready, if we press into the Lord and wait for His perfect timing, bearing fruit won’t require such a struggle.  

Hope for when you don’t feel productive 

If you, too, are in a season where you’re struggling to make things happen – whether it’s navigating virtual school with your kiddos, exhaustion from working from home for yet another month, or like me trying to produce something - allow me to offer this encouragement.  

You have the freedom to take the pressure off because you are not the one who makes the fruit – Jesus does. There will be seasons where we simply don’t produce as much, times where it takes a lot of work for little reward, and even those where it feels like all we can do is hang on to the Lord to stay afloat. BUT with Christ, it is not a question of if you will produce fruit, it’s a matter of when. He is the vine—a strong, sustainable vine that enables the branches to bear much fruit. And so we will. 

The other day I was pruning the dead branches off my tomato plants and found something surprising. As I trailed my hand down what I thought was a corpse of a branch, I found a teeny, tiny ripe tomato. 

Here’s the thing about God. He is so awesome, so incredibly powerful, that He doesn’t even need perfect conditions to make beautiful things. It’s as 2 Corinthians 12:9 says, His power is made perfect in our weakness.

If we are faithful to our Father, and stay tapped in to the strong vine that He is, it does not matter how dry, weak, or unproductive we feel; by His glory, for His glory the fruit will come. 

This truth speaks much-needed encouragement to my heart, and I hope that goes for you, too. Don’t be discouraged, dear friend. Whether you’re feeling stuck or the fruit looks a little different than you expected, stay strong, hang on to the vine, and trust that He will enable you in His perfect timing.