Tag Archives: enduring challenges

Looking for Joy?

Remember that old Johnny Lee song “Looking For Love?” It’s from a just-as-old movie called “Urban Cowboy” from what I’ve been told. 🙂

I don’t think I’ve heard that song in years but for some reason as I was loading the van to hit the road to Spartanburg this morning, it was playing in my mind. Maybe you’ll recognize the lyrics:

I thought it was funny …

I was looking for love in all the wrong places
Looking for love in too many faces (grumpy, tired faces this morning)
Searching thier eyes looking for traces (any hint, really)
What I’m dreaming of

So here’s what I was dreaming of …

cooperation
good attitudes
the breakfast genie to show up
a little less pollen
____ fill in the blank

I was looking for joy in all the wrong places 🙂 Or the illusion of joy anyway. 🙂

And then I remembered–the devil likes to lie about stuff. He lies about joy.

He’ll tell you money will make you happy. But it won’t. And it’s not the money, it’s the pursuit of it. Because joy, true JOY, is not found in power, passion or possessions. Or even in my kids obeying with a smile on their face.

(But that would have been extra-great this morning.)

It’s found in a personal relationship with God.

Satisfaction is found in the Lord and in His Word.

Joy will never be found under the sun … but above it … where God is.

Today, busy mom, let’s keep our joy in plain sight. Let’s fix our eyes on Jesus, and run the race that’s set before us with the joy that comes from following Jesus.

Remember those trees that are “firmly planted?” They’re rooted in Christ!

Lean into Him while you do laundry for the millionth time. Talk to Him about your kids. Ask Him to show you how to love your husband.

He has something to say to you.

Looking for joy? He’ll show you where to find it. And where joy is, strength is.

“The joy of the Lord is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10b

He’s Good Like That

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Sunrise in the pacific northwest: Mount Saint Helens in the distance

Well, today’s the day. Today, we pull out of our cozy home here in Washington and hit the road. On tap for today: 10 hours of driving.

Yesterday was rough. Jay and I flew in from speaking at CAPE in Albuquerque on Sunday. I unpacked our suitcases, ran some laundry, and packed them up again.

When preparing to leave home for two months, you’ve got to have your thinking cap on.

Only yesterday, my poor little thinking cap seemed to have been misplaced. I felt overwhelmed. The kind of overwhelmed that keeps you from cleaning your house because you don’t know where to start. I struggled to think clearly. Even my lists were overwhelming!

And then there is the fear that plagues my heart and mind.

What if we are robbed again? What if we break down? What if someone gets sick or injured? What if …

Here’s the thing: God already knows what’s going on. It does not do me any good to worry. And the most frustrating thing for me is that I know it!

Busy mom, we serve an awesome God. He gets it.

Today as I sat down to read my Bible, I looked at the calendar and noticed it was April 23. I don’t normally do this but I sensed that God would have me read Psalm 23 — and in the quietness of the dawn,God met me.

Psalm 23

¹The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
² He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
³ he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name’s sake.
⁴Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

⁵You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
⁶Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.

Isn’t God good!? He knows exactly what we need each day. Are you spending time with Him each day, busy mom? He wants to meet with you. As I read today, God gently reminded me that He’s right.here. He’s always been here. He always will be.

He guides us along RIGHT paths–for His name’s sake.

He leads us beside quiet waters.

He restores our souls.

Mom, whatever you’re facing today, you can trust Him. Whatever you walk through, He’s walking beside you. He’s got it covered.

He’s good like that.

When Life Hurts

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I was in the middle of a math lesson yesterday when I heard the news… terror had struck the Boston Marathon.

Heartsick, I stopped school. We sat in silence, watching. Waiting.

Like you, I’ve learned it can be real now.

I remember well September 11, 2001. I was in bed with my infant son when the news broke. We turned on the TV, just in time to see the second plane hit the World Trade Center. At first, we could not believe what was happening in front of us–and then, the reality began to sink in.

It.Was.Real.

There really is evil in this world.

So much heartache. So much grief. So much pain.

How do we even begin to comprehend this kind of suffering?

We don’t. That’s all.

Grief is it’s own master. It comes and goes at will. Like many of you, I’ve learned that grief washes over a sorrowing person like waves on the seashore…

Remember when daddy used to swing with us?
Remember those stories mama read?
Remember how very tiny she was? So. Tiny. I loved her.

For me, 9/11 was a time of innocence lost. A reminder that we truly never know what tomorrow will bring.

In this world, we need an anchor. An anchor for the soul. I loved this from Max Lucado:

On 9/11 we turned to the sturdiest anchor of all: God. Only He promises to secure our most precious commodity—our souls. When God breathed into Adam, he gave him more than oxygen; he gave him an eternal essence. He gave you the same. Because of your soul, you wrestle with right and wrong, value the lives of others and get choked up at the singing of our national anthem. The soul is that part of you dares to believe that good comes out of evil, Right still sits on the throne and the next life will make sense of this one.

The older I get, the more I realize just how little is within my control.

Last night, I was talking with a friend about the pain of a miscarriage my husband and I suffered many years ago. Sometimes, we just don’t understand. Sometimes, life just hurts. Sometimes, the “whys” of this life can be overwhelming.

But even when life hurts, we can trust . The Bible teaches us that we can run to God when life hurts. “God is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1).

God never promised us a world without suffering. But He did promise that in the midst of sorrow, when life hurts, He would be there.

When life hurts, we can run to Him.

In the midnight hours, when the questions arise that are beyond comprehension, we can read His words:

He promised never to leave us (Matthew 28:20). He said, “For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them” (Matthew 18:20). He is “a friend who sticks closer than a brother” (Proverbs 18:24). We’re assured that “the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer” (1 Peter 3:12).

You can run to Him too, busy mom. He hears. He’s present.

Even when life hurts.

He Knows My Name

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I looked in the mirror the other day and laughed along with God.

No joke.

I laughed.

Why? Because I have seven kids, that’s why. And I think it makes God smile.

Why? Because it’s me, that’s why.

Me.

The woman who has to buy silk plants because I have a startling ability to kill both plants and small animals. (I boiled my fish to death in their aquarium when I was 14. True story.)

In my defense, the thermostat broke while I was at school. But still. I think I have PTSD from that episode.

God knew all about my anti-nurturing qualities and still, He saw fit to entrust me with seven precious lives.

Seven.

S E V E N beautiful pairs of baby feet. Made just for me and my husband by the God of the universe.

I think God is smiling at me right this minute, thinking about my dead fish and my silk plants—and those seven precious people who call me … MOM.

You see, God knows me. I’ve learned He knows me better than I know myself.

He knows my name.

I like to picture Him saying it … I listen for it.

And I hear Him—in the stillness that comes with the morning light. I hear Him. “Heidi.”

Just.Like.That. Gentle. Patient.

Like a father should be.

Like any good father, He knew I was terrified of motherhood. Terrified that I was destined to repeat a generational sin in my family. Terrified that I was not equipped to take care of a baby. Terrified that I would mess it up. And even more terrified to admit it.

My Father knew my fears as a young mother-to-be.

And He still knows them. {He’s good like that.}

Sometimes, Father lets me wrestle with a question. Sometimes, He sends an answer.

Rarely early. Never late.

I think He knows when I need an answer and when I can wait a while longer.

In September of 1991, I had a question that couldn’t wait. I needed an answer.

Life hung in the balance.

New life.

He knows my name. He knows my name.

I was a woman who was about to give birth. My fear of failing bubbled to the surface. My spirit struggled under the weight of an uncertain future.

Could I do this? Really?
Would I be an angry mother?
Could I overcome my fear?

Just a few days before our precious first-born entered this world, I broke down. Tears rolled down my face and dropped quietly onto my burgeoning belly. It was time to face my fear.

He knows my name.

As I sat in the living room of a dear woman of God, I confided in her. I unpacked my fears. I told my story.

And God sent me His answer through this precious friend.

Rarely early. Never late.

“I can’t do it!” I wailed. “I don’t know how! I don’t know how not to be angry.”

It was all I had ever known, really. Anger.

He knows my name.

“Heidi, ” Nola said, “Why are you crying? God has made you new. You are a new creation! You are redeemed! Called by name. Loved. Set apart. You are not bound by your past. You.Are.New.”

He knows my name.

In that moment, I was set free. Free to be the woman God made me to be. Free to be the mother I wanted to be.

That was nearly twenty-two years ago.

Do I still battle with my fears? Yes.

Do I struggle? Fall? Fail?

Yes.

But here’s the thing: I’m learning what it means to be truly free.

Free to be imperfect. Free to ask for help.

Free to mess things up. To ask for grace —grace to be the woman God sees when He looks at me.

He knows my name.

He knows your name too, precious mom. He knows your fears—He’s seen your failures.

And He loves you.

You can trust Him with your fears and your failures. Lean hard into His arms. He can hold you up.

He knows your name. Can you hear Him saying it?

Look up. Listen.

He knows your name.

{Broken}

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Broken. It’s the word I use the most when people ask me who I am.

Broken.

I’m a mess, really. Memories linger, but with little time to process them. Laundry abounds. Dinner calls. I’m often short-tempered. I’m often frustrated by things that carry no eternal significance.

I often forget how truly blessed I am.

The Liar is tricky. He whispers “What do you have to offer? Look how broken you are.” And yes I am. I must confess. I often have more questions than answers.

I wonder. Will my children be broken like I am broken? In my heart I know they will. Because, really, we’re all broken. That’s why we need a Savior. We do the best we can, in our brokenness. I have found myself crying out to God as I carry the weight of the “what ifs” in life … and I must daily learn (again) to yield to God what I cannot control.

I make the mistake of scanning Facebook. More things that remind me. We.Are.Broken. I try not to feel overwhelmed. There is much to do. Much that my heart aches for in this broken world.

In my brokenness, I’m learning to see something beautiful. I’m learning that being broken is its own kind of beautiful. Being broken means that I don’t have to struggle with the pain of perfectionism (although I still sometimes do.)

Being broken provides a freedom all it’s own—because there can be no glass houses for broken people. No need to compare brokenness. After all, we are all broken the same. Different kinds of broken—but still broken.

Being broken means I am in need of constant repair—and so I find myself at the feet of the One who heals—again.

There is strength there.

My husband touches my hand. He tells me (again) me how cherished I am.

He reminds me that our children will learn from our brokenness. I love this strong, gentle man. He is a gift. Part of my healing. He tempers me.

I need that. … You too?

Broken people carry a beauty all their own. And broken people who know they have been redeemed—bought with a price—are radiant with a light that transcends the pain of this life.

Very little in this life compares to the beauty the comes from brokenness. The beauty that comes from ashes —is available to me. And you.

As the news plays in the background, and the weight of this life threatens to overwhelm, I claim the gift of brokenness. I claim it to find healing, and peace. I claim it for the one thing I cannot find without being broken. I claim it for grace. I claim it today, again.

Grace.

Grace in my brokenness — healing.

Praise the Lord.

Heidi St. John

Speaking the Truth in Love

Tag Archives: enduring challenges

Looking for Joy?

He’s Good Like That

Psalm 23

When Life Hurts

He Knows My Name

{Broken}