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Thirty Thankful Thoughts

This last week, I finally reached the blessing of being thirty years old! And in light of this gift of continued life by the grace of my Father in heaven, I wanted to highlight thirty things for which I am extremely thankful. I’m humbled to be given the gift of life, thirty whole years of breathing oxygen thus far, and especially to have the gift of a redeemed life by grace… and just want to share (in purposefully random order) some specific thankfulnesses with you.

Psalm 107:8-9
Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness,
And for His wonderful works to the children of men!
For He satisfies the longing soul,
And fills the hungry soul with goodness.

1. The one husband God has given me makes me dizzy with thankfulness—each day with him is a cause for praise. That I get to fall asleep in his embrace, cry on his chest, laugh in harmony with him, be the one he comes home to every night, gaze at his handsome profile across the table as he interacts with our children. That we create memories together, that we fill in gaps for one another, that we sharpen one another in our unity and diversity, that we serve the same God and build the same Kingdom, that my people are his people, that his family is now mine too, that our families melded into one. That his red hair complexion and his love of the psalmist David are what first drew me in, and are still two of the things that continue to draw me deeper every day.

2. Grace. The incredible, indelible grace of God, and how He graciously gives me so much of it that I simply want to let grace pour off of me and onto others around me. That I don’t have to understand it to receive it. That I don’t have to recreate it in order to reproduce it and regift it—because I can’t.

3. The written word, and the ability to write words with simple little taps of my fingers (talk about a grace). I don’t know what I would do without written words—I’m so thankful for written words.

4. My daily toil. The fact that I am called to daily toil. The specific daily toil God has put before me. The repetitive nature of that daily toil. How I get to improve on the same little tasks all the time. The way I get to try out new things all the time. That my toil involves making beauty, making messes, making chaos and making order in turn, making new things old and old things new. That it is for glory and because of glory. That it is good toil. That it aids generations—both the ones that eat its fruit now, and those that will glean from its dropped fruit in the future.

5. Windows, both physical and metaphorical. For my eyes to see that the world is much bigger than I regularly remember. For the sun to stream in. For dimply little faces to press against, peer through, cover with mouthmarks and fingerprints.

6. Theology (particularly right theology, hah!). That it helps me understand God and Scripture. That there is always more to glean. That it challenges me—that it makes me think, makes me need to know, makes me want to grow. That it shows me Gospel and grace. That it shapes me, that I cannot shape it.

7. My musical instruments—the one that I frequently play and the ones I desire to play more frequently. I am thankful for these things, made from wood, metal, gut—touched, plucked, thumped, fingered by me—full of vibrations, air, movement. That sound gets from these things into our ears—that these sounds reach my soul in ways not much else does. That the layer of dust on these musical instruments has not ruined that magic. That I can work harder, day by day, on including more music in my daily toil. And that if it doesn’t happen, there’s grace for that too.

8. Dates with my husby. Whether at home or out on the town, spur of the moment or planned in advance. Nightly connecting through conversation, weekly cheese & wine dates, occasional family dates on a weekend, the gift of “just us” dates for shopping or coffee or calendar-planning. I am thankful for time spent together (which is really the only qualifier to us as far as “date” goes), and thankful that we’re only 6 ½ years into the married lane—that means we, God willing, have many more dates ahead of us than behind us!

9. Water. What a gift—and what a picture, too.

10. The blessing of life, and that not only have I been given that gift myself but I have been given the gift of interacting with other lives—sharing life together with other lives—family, and friends who are as dear as family. The incredible fact that lives have even been made, created, formed, grown inside of my own body. The challenge of life, and how it reminds me that I need that Creator to continue creating and sustaining—because I’m just dust, and we know what happens when dust is left to itself. (Really—just look at my piano.)

11. My eleven children—they are such a unique blessing to me, and I am so thankful for each one of them. I never knew I wanted to be a mommy to eleven children… and if I’m honest, there is a big part of me that still doesn’t know I want that. But I am thankful for each child God has given to me. I’m so thankful to know that life in eternity is going to be so much bigger than life here on earth—each of these children has a calling, a purpose, a place in the history of God’s world and universe and plan. I am thankful that He chose to use my humble womb to add to His Kingdom. I didn’t know before just exactly what an incredible mercy that is—and I still can’t put it into words. I still can’t believe I have eleven children.

12. The internet. But you can’t blame me for this one, because without it, I would not have met my husband—and that is a slippery slope to all kinds of horrible “would not have beens” that are the makings of nightmares. Plus, in the wake of grief, the Christian community God has given me via the internet has been an incredible grace. And then there’s always the perk of quick communication, and easy access to… well… just about anything in the world.

13. Crying. I am thankful for tears, and the strange gift of crying them.

14. The Psalms—reading them, singing them, praying them, writing them out, memorizing them, reciting them. So much found in the Psalter resonates with me, and I am so thankful that God in His sovereign grace gave us those 150 chapters to cling to as we walk through life and face so many of the emotions and scenarios that are addressed therein. The Psalms really remind me that Scripture is for me.

15. Food—cooking, baking, eating together, watching Food Network shows, its smells, its tastes, its allegories, its chemistry, its artistry—and how it reminds me of my mother.

16. Hot coffee, especially when it is creamy and frothy with sweetness and milkiness.

17. Wood—its strength, its grain, its versatility, its smell, its many facets, its presence in my home in various manifestations, the metaphors it paints—and how it reminds me of my father.

18. A bedroom that smells of Yankee candles, massage lotion, and freshly showered skin. ‘Nuff said.

19. Fresh bread—making it, smelling it, eating it, slicing it, breaking it together with those I love. What a gift, and what a picture it shows of God’s active grace.

20. I am thankful for Sunday. For worship and the depth and breadth of that, which I cannot fully comprehend. That I get to covenantally ascend into heaven on Sunday and worship with my entire family—that I get to share this not only with my children here but my children there too. For fellowship and the love that oozes from conversations, hugs, candies, handshakes—the passing of the peace and the breaking of bread that flows from the grace and Gospel ridden worship of Christ’s people in the beauty of holiness. For rest in varied forms. For laughter like on no other day of the week. For our family traditions—popcorn, ice cream, and movies with the kids; wine, cheese, and chocolate with my husband—for the way this day of the week embodies and influences our family culture for the other six.

21. Siblings. That word is fat and full to me, and I am thankful for the what, how, and why of that.

22. That in the course of my life I have had the unique privilege of not only knowing all four of my grandparents (and got to meet two of my husband’s grandparents), but also four great-grandparents and one great-great-grandmother—while I do not claim to fully comprehend the multitude of blessings that come from such multigenerational living, I do heartily acknowledge and embrace that there is indeed a multitude of blessings that I continue to reap from having known and loved (and been known and loved by) these ancestors of mine.

23. Living in the country, with trees and mountains, fields and wildlife as my close neighbors. And as the icing on the cake, living here in a house that we designed together and oversaw the building process together, and now consider it our privilege to turn it into our home and family refuge. There is more thankfulness in that than I can describe.

24. Hands. I love hands. I love having hands, holding hands, seeing hands at work, using my hands, massaging with my hands, feeling hands rubbing my neck, helping hands learn new things.

25. Modern medicine. In more ways than I could begin to describe, and for more reasons than you need to know.

26. Wisdom: the pursuit of her, the winning of her, the fruit of her, the love of her, the challenge of her, the Book of Wisdom about her, the fight for her, the desire for her, the receiving of her.

27. I am thankful for gifts. Take that in as many facets as you can conjure—I mean it each way.

28. Two sons and a daughter—here with me today. Their dimples, their laughs, their cries, their creativity, their struggles, their victories, their outfits, their crazy questions, their interactions, their artwork on my fridge, their photos in my albums, their bodies embraced between my arms, their varied redhead shades… I am thankful for everything about these three amazing children. So thankful that I get to be the one who daily participates in how God is shaping them, preparing them, using them, growing the Kingdom by them, and battling the Enemy through them.

29. Memories—they are hard to come by, but impossible to let go. And the scars they leave. I’m thankful for each one, both the bitter and the sweet, that God has engraved into me.

30. For thirty years, my daddy & my mama have been my counselors, and have loved me more than I even know (and I know they love me pretty darn deeply). I’m thankful for their hoary heads, the wisdom they impart, the love they shower, the grace they share, and how they not only keep covenant together so beautifully but encourage us to do the same. I’m thankful they are my parents, my neighbors, my friends.

 

It is certainly just the tip of the iceberg… but these are the first things that came to mind as I pondered thirty things which fill me with thankfulness. I thank my God and Father in heaven for giving these things to me, for giving me the eyes to see them, for giving me an avenue to share them so that He may be further glorified for His wondrous works. Amen.

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Four Weeks

I just looked at the clock: it is 12:42 on Friday afternoon. It was exactly four weeks ago that I held my daughter in my hands. What a beautiful moment, what a horrible moment. What a piece of history. What a painful wound.

Have you ever had those moments where you felt like something was etched into you? Like it’s written into, not only your story, but into your skin, your very being?

Heritage did that. She—her life as well as her death—left me wounded.

Just twenty-eight days ago, my wounds were gaping holes: the kind where ripped skin, torn muscle, gushing blood, and deafening screams of anguish set the stage. And I know that someday the wound will heal over to the point where it will be scarred: most people may not even really notice it, they will no longer ask about it or wonder “oy! How did THAT happen?!” But that time is not yet. Right now, my wounds are scabbing—they’re in that stage of going back and forth between bleeding and scabbing, bleeding and scabbing. The wound is not as fresh and gory as it was a month ago, but it is still a wound. It hurts, some days maybe just stinging but other days completely throbbing. As much as I wish I could rush the healing process, there is no way to make a wound heal prematurely—the scabbing, scarring, healing process takes time.

Four weeks sounds like a lot to some people, and in some perspectives and in some situations, it may be. Can you imagine being without food for four weeks? Can you imagine standing still for four weeks? Of course not, because four weeks is a long time. Then again, four weeks is also a short amount of time. Can you imagine marrying someone you just met four weeks ago? Can you imagine climbing Mt. Everest four weeks after you learned to walk? Of course not (or at least, it’s incredibly remarkable and rare if you can!), because four weeks is not much time at all.
People not only wound differently and react to their wounds differently, but they heal differently too.
There may be two people with identical wounds, yet they may heal differently. They may heal at different rates, their scars may look different, their pain levels or pain tolerances may be at opposite ends of the spectrum.

Every time I see a baby or a pregnant belly… every time I even hear about one… every time I think about August… every time I look at my shelf piled high with injections and medications that are sitting untouched… when we hear news from my specialist that makes me think we might not be able to even try again, let alone have success again—these things pick at my scabs. I bleed. I hurt. I cry.

That’s where I am. That is my reality.

It isn’t where I will always be, it will not always be my reality. Because my scabs will harden, dry up, scar over. I won’t always bleed when poked (although I may if I’m sliced or sucker-punched).
The God I serve is the Great Physician, and He is in the business of healing, of redeeming, of making all things new.
Even this grief over the death of my baby girl will be nothing but a scar someday. I don’t know if it will be the kind of scar that you have to squint to see, or if it will be a bulgy purple thing that will burn if something so much as brushes by it. But I know it will scar. That is one of the ways God works: He doesn’t take us on a journey, and then bring us back where He got us at the first place. He takes us on a journey, and then takes us on another one as a changed person. There are purposes for the scars He gives me. One journey leads to another, and the scars I received on previous journeys will be there for reminders—for myself, for others—on subsequent journeys. These scars show who I am, who He made me to be, and how He is remaking me.

So as odd as it sounds, I look forward to the day when I am scarred. When the scabs are gone, when the blood stops flowing, when things have reknit and been remade into something new. It is hard to predict what the purpose will be, but I look forward to finding out.

And in the meantime, I ask for grace to endure the bleeding, the scabbing, the picking.
It’s been four whole weeks already!
Wow.
It’s only been twenty-eight days since I held her…

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In the Valley… On the Move…

It is bitterly cold in the valley of the shadow of death. There it is always winter. It is, however, there always Christmas as well. Because Aslan is with us there. And the gifts He brings are not baubles to brighten our lives on earth, but tools to prepare us for the brightness of heaven. … Aslan is on the move.
~R.C. Sproul Jr, blog

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Facing Giants with a Shield

Ephesians 6:10-18
…be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Put on the whole armor of God that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having girded your waist with truth, having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; above all, taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God; praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, being watchful to this end with all perseverance and supplication for all the saints…

I have always loved the imagery Paul used in Ephesians 6 of the warrior’s armor, and particularly the emphasis on the shield of faith—he says, “above all” that we need that shield to quench the darts that will be thrown at us. Without faith, we will not be able to deflect those darts. We need the shield, we need faith, we need Christ, we need God.

Throughout Scripture, a shield is often used to describe God Himself in relation to His people—He told Abram that He was his shield, his great reward (Genesis 15:1); He told Israel through the mouthpiece of Moses that He was the shield of their help (Deuteronomy 33:29); Solomon tells us that the Lord is a shield to those who walk uprightly (Proverbs 2:7); Agur proclaims that God is a shield to those who put their trust in Him (Proverbs 30:5).

And then there is David. The man himself who, as a mere boy, faced the famed giant Goliath with no warriors armor, weaponry, or shield—except for the shield of faith which Paul describes for us in Ephesians 6. This David frequently describes his God and King as a shield throughout the Psalms (3:3, 5:12, 18:2, 18:30, 18:35, 28:7, 33:20, 59:11, 84:9, 84:11, 89:18, 91:4, 115:9, 115:10, 115:11, 119:114, 144:2). When David was delivered from his enemies, he praised God with a song, calling God the shield of his salvation, a shield to all who trust in Him (2 Samuel 22:3, 31, 36).

So what does this teach us, and how can this help prepare us when we are facing giants? Because I don’t know about you, but we’re in battle with a couple specific giants right now, and we need to be strategic and wise in our battle plans.

There are many different tactics one can use in battle—one tactic may be simply deflecting the weapons of a giant. There can be great wisdom in simply holding your ground, clinging to your faith with all you’ve got, walking uprightly, trusting in God—not returning arrows, darts, slashes of the sword, but simply standing firm because you know God is the One fighting the battle, He is the shield of your help, He is your great reward.

Sometimes fighting giants requires pulling out other weaponry to prioritize in a specific battle, but do not neglect the power of a shield. There are battles where the wisest defense involves hunkering down behind the shield of faith and wielding that glorious bulwark—when you trust in Christ, when you walk uprightly, when you cling to faith, when you rest in His salvation, you can battle giants because the Lord is your Refuge and your Victor. He will lift up your head, bless you, deliver you, help you, scatter your enemies, cover you with the shadow of His wings.

Psalm 91:1-4
He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High
Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress;
My God, in Him I will trust.”
Surely He shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler
And from the perilous pestilence.
He shall cover you with His feathers,
And under His wings you shall take refuge;
His truth shall be your shield and buckler.

 

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Remembering MomMom

My husband’s grandmother has joined the heavenly choir. While I did not know her long or know her well, I loved her for the things I heard about her, and for the fruitfulness I daily glean from the fruit which dropped from her faithful boughs.

We grieve the loss of this Christian woman who faithfully toiled, who victoriously labored, who successfully blessed ~ without her, my children would not be, my husband would not be, my mother-in-law would not be. I pray for her children who most keenly feel her absence, for her grandchildren who mourn the only grandmother they ever personally knew, for her great-grandchildren who will never get to sit on her lap and hear her stories.

We rejoice for her gain, for her rest, and praise God for the faithfulness He shows in bringing His children home to His bosom.
Rest in peace, MomMom; we will see you again in the Choir.

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Putting it into words

Do you ever feel like you have something to say, but you just don’t know how to put it into words?
Like you have this important concept in your head, but are unable to get that articulated in a way that makes sense?

I feel that way.
And usually it is because it’s about something so big, so huge, so central in my life that I feel like if I don’t get it right, if I don’t process it fully from my brain into a way that it gets properly into yours, then it isn’t worth blathering about in the first place…
And for me, that subject is (98% of the time anyway) my children. Specifically, the deaths of my children.

And while I sometimes use the word “miscarriage,” it is rather a misnomer ~ I’ve always said that it’s such a little word for such a monolithic devastation. It is not a medical condition: it is, rather, the death of my child.

So I tend to replace “miscarriage” with that phrase. Because it’s more precise. (You may even notice that I do not have a category or tag called “miscarriage”… which surprises some people!)

Thus, when I read this article this morning, and realized how well Rachel composed her thoughts, and how precisely she put into words the thoughts of my own heart… especially from past years when we would have services hosted by one of our pastors on the sidewalk outside of Planned Parenthood (two times while I was in the first half of my pregnancy with Asher, in fact)… I realized that I just need to ask you to read her words.

I can’t tell you how many times I have started writing on that very subject, and deleted the paragraphs because I just didn’t think I did it adequately. The words that I have wanted to coin for a while, but didn’t know how ~ she did it. May God be glorified, and may eyes be opened.

“that hole in her heart that will one day scab, one day scar, but will never fully heal…”
“What if you didn’t just affirm to the world that all babies are valuable — but you also affirmed to a bereaved mom that HER baby was irreplaceable, and would forever be missed?”

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Not Forgotten

It is easy to feel forgotten. Even Scripture has evidences of God’s people feeling forgotten by Him.
And to be honest, right now, I feel forgotten too.

Psalm 77:7-9
Will the Lord cast off forever?
And will He be favorable no more?
Has His mercy ceased forever?
Has His promise failed forevermore?
Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has He in anger shut up His tender mercies?

Psalm 42:9
I will say to God my Rock,
“Why have You forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?”

Isaiah 49:14
But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me,
And my Lord has forgotten me.”

And in these moments where I can so easily feel forsaken and feel forgotten, I have to rely not on feelings and not even on circumstances, but on what I know about God, His character, His faithfulness. And so I must talk to myself, rather than listen to myself. I must remind myself about truths of God, not give in to the feelings that I have about where God has me right now.

Isaiah 49:13, 15
…the Lord has comforted His people,
And will have mercy on His afflicted.
Can a woman forget her nursing child,
And not have compassion on the son of her womb?
Surely they may forget,
Yet I will not forget you.

Psalm 10:12
Arise, O Lord!
O God, lift up Your hand!
Do not forget the humble.

Luke 12:6-7
Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins? And not one of them is forgotten before God.But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.

May God remember me in His mercy ~ by being with me in this dark valley, and by graciously bringing me to the other side of it back onto the heights someday where the sun still shines.

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Listening

It is beautiful, and sometimes bittersweet, to listen to the conversations held by a 5-year-old.
I love listening to him talk to his brother and sister, sometimes instructing, sometimes encouraging, sometimes telling stories.
And I love listening to him talk about his other brothers and sisters too.

Lately, he has not shied away from talking about Heritage Peniel. Today, in fact, he told his cousins about his baby sister, her name, and told them confidently about how the baby’s body died but how her spirit (he worded it like, “her new heart”) is alive in heaven. It wasn’t a very short conversation. He likes to talk about her. And I love to hear about her.

It is bittersweet music to this mommy’s ears.

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They’re too big to miss

As I miss my baby girl (yes, Heritage is a girl… and apparently her chromosomes look a lot like her mommy’s… which makes me dream about what having a second little clone of me would have been like, just 18 months younger than her precious big sister…), I am clinging to faith, and clinging to Christ and His promises BY faith. There are giants in the land. Some of them have to do with the death of my baby daughter, and some of them are giants of other nations that we are facing at the same time. And what we are seeking is to approach these giants by faith, and to rest in God who is the One we trust will not only guide our steps but also equip us for battle, as He triumphantly gives us victory… one giant at a time.

 

We have to recognize the importance of fighting giants.
It is truly odd that pictures of this (in Bible story books, and so on) do not record the fact that Joshua led Israel into the land of giants, in order to displace those giants. This is a motif throughout Scripture. …
[W]hat are the giants in your life? What are you called to do about it?
The Great Commission says what it says very plainly. The Christian faith is a religion of world conquest through evangelization.
Are the giants here big enough to qualify as giants?
There are two approaches to take with giants — the first is that of unbelief and the second is one of faith.
Unbelief says that the giants are too big to defeat.
Faith says that giants are too big to miss.
~Douglas Wilson, blog

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Facing Giants

As I laid awake last night in the darkness, trying to find rest and peace and sleep, all I could think about was giants. I keep thinking about being in Egypt, and how horrible it is to be in a type of Egypt… how peaceful it is to trust that our God is leading us from the familiar chains of Egypt into the unknown but reportedly beautiful Promised Land… and yet how terrifying it is because there seem to be giants standing between us and that place of blessing.

I rolled over and said to Steven, trying not to cry, “I’m scared of the giants.” He reached my hand, and eventually said, “The thing about giants is they’re supposed to be scary and you’re not supposed to be able to fight them by yourself.” He paused, then continued, “The only way to conquer giants is for God to do it for you. Case in point: David and Goliath. The only way to overcome the giants is by faith.” I said, “But I feel like I’ve never seen a giant before, and I feel like I don’t know how to have that faith.” Softly and comfortingly, Steven said, “oh but you have, and you do.”

As I lay there trying to fight an emotional and spiritual battle during the night, I relied on the psalms to hold my thoughts captive: I distinctly recall quietly singing 6, 22, and 40 to myself. How thankful I am that God has given me weapons fit for battle with giants.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I re-read Numbers 13-14 (and skimmed a lot beyond that too) this morning, thinking about what it was like to be glancing ahead toward Canaan where there was promise of beauty but everything was ultimately unknown… thinking about the temptation to glance backward toward slavery where there was knowledge of pain but everything was familiar, and how even the hard things have a thread of comfort to them when at least you know what you’re enslaved to.

Moses sent some men to spy ahead, to see what was ahead of the people he lead, and told them to “be of good courage and bring some of the fruit of the land” (Numbers 13:20). I want to glance ahead, too, to spy out what lies before me: I want to be of good courage, I want to see that there will be fruitfulness in the place where God is leading me!

What did the men find? Well, for starters, they found grapes, pomegranates, figs (Numbers 13:23) ~ these were signs of fruitfulness, of promise, of blessing. They carried them back with them to show others, and to remind themselves, that there was a tangible reason to be of good courage. God was providing. He would continue to provide. He is faithful.

When the spies came back to Moses and the multitude, they told of the blessings that lay ahead: milk, honey, fruit! But then they reported of fortified cities, of strong peoples, of giants. It seems as though they were saying, “enormous blessing lies ahead of us! But there are giants, and they are terrifying.”

I don’t know about you, but that is something I completely identify with at the moment.

I confidently trust and believe that God has beauty and blessing ahead of me… but in order to receive that from His hand, I have to get past some giants. Some of those giants live in fortified cities. And it is terrifying.
There is part of me that wishes I could simply grasp for the beauty and blessing without having to face the giants ~ and another part of me that cries, “it isn’t worth it! Let me go back to slavery! It might be choking my spirit and drying out my bones, but at least I know what I’m facing there! Don’t make me face unknown terrors! Don’t make me conquer giants in order to obtain the bigger blessing!”

Part of me speaks like Caleb, knowing that by God’s grace and Christ’s equipping strength, “we are well able to overcome it” (Numbers 13:30), but part of me speaks like the weak-kneed men with him, “I seem like a grasshopper in comparison to the giants!”

It isn’t that I want to doubt the Lord, it’s that I am sinful by nature. It isn’t that I have forgotten the past faithfulness and provision of the Lord, it’s that I am sinful by nature. I need to fall on my face as Moses and Aaron did, I need to repent as Joshua and Caleb did, and proclaim by faith, “if the Lord delights in us, He will bring us into this land and give it to us… do not rebel against the Lord… do not fear the people of the land… the Lord is with us, do not fear them…” (Numbers 14:5-9)

Oh that God would give me the faith and humility to say like Moses, “please let the power of the Lord be great as you have promised, saying,‘The Lord is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, forgiving iniquity and transgression, but He will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children, to the third and the fourth generation.’ Please pardon the iniquity of this people, according to the greatness of Your steadfast love, just as You have forgiven this people, from Egypt until now” (Numbers 14:17-19).

May I not grow weary in following the Lord and His commands, may I increase in my desire to obey Him, may my joy be full when His wisdom is what guides me. May I, like Moses, who was not even permitted to enter the Promised Land when all was said and done,

Your eyes have seen what the Lord did… you who held fast to the Lord your God are all alive today. See, I have taught you statutes and rules, as the Lord my God commanded me, that you should do them in the land that you are entering to take possession of it. Keep them and do them, for that will be your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the peoples… For what great nation is there that has a god so near to it as the Lord our God is to us, whenever we call upon Him? And what great nation is there, that has statutes and rules so righteous as all this law that I set before you today? Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children’s children… (Deuteronomy 4:3-9).

This isn’t the last you will hear from me about facing giants ~ rather, it’s the tip of the iceberg, I believe. I see giants before me, and I need to rely on Christ’s strength and God’s faithfulness. Like my husband told me last night, the only way to conquer giants is for God to do it for me, the only way to overcome them is by faith in Him. That’s what I am seeking. May God grant it to me not because I deserve His blessing but because He is near when I call upon Him ~ I want to believe it, see it, claim it, live it, and make it to known to my descendants.

Giants? Yes, there you are, I see you. I may be a grassphopper to you, but God is on my side. Amen.