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I wrote this years ago but goodness, does it hit me in the feels again as summer begins. Blessings to all those men and women who spend their summers and their seasons investing in their players and the community. We love you.

(See preview below or link to Friday Night Wives for the full post.)

Early in our marriage, I accompanied my husband to a Glazier clinic in Chicago. It was my first football clinic, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. We arrived in the hotel parking lot, grabbed our bags, and headed in.

The sight that met me inside those doors was one I will never forget—and one I have not stopped loving since.

There they were, a sea of men.

Old and young, many with excellent beards, all of them wearing football apparel. They milled about carrying bags, checking in, and saying, “Hey Coach!” “Hi Coach!” And,“Hey Coacher, long time no see. How’d the season go?”

As I looked around, my heart swelled. These were my people.

Even though I didn’t know them, I knew I loved all of them. It felt like the way a sister loves a brother, or a mother loves her son, because that’s exactly what it was. A room full of brothers. A room full of sons.

A room full of kindred spirits who were gathered together because they were doing the same work we were, all over the country.

As I reflect on that moment, and the many clinics we’ve been to since then, I wanted to highlight a few of these coaches and why I love them. So here’s to you, the coaches I’ve loved before.

The Young Coach

You, precious 22 or 23-year-old, I see you. I see you looking around at all these men, wondering what your coaching career might look like. I see you attend the sessions with your heroes. I see the stars in your eyes and the insecurity in your youth. We love you so much.

We may even especially love you in your singleness because some coach’s family somewhere gets to take care of you for a bit through dinners, holidays, or a Sunday afternoon watching ball until your own wife comes along. We love you, young coach.

The Old Coach

You, ol’ ball coach, I almost can’t see you for the tears in my eyes. I see you standing there, slightly hunched, slower than the men on your staff. Your voice is gruff from years of coaching, and you aren’t trying so hard to fit in anymore.

You’ve learned what’s important and you’re cool with going to bed early while the young guys stay up shooting the breeze. You have literally impacted the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of young men, and somehow survived the many minefields of the career. We love you, old coach.

The Assistant Coach

You, right-hand man, are more valuable than you know. You may want the big job someday, or you may be content with your role as it is. Regardless, you provide a foundation for your head coach that he can never fully thank you for. The hours of film, the days in the off-season, the boys you love with everything you’ve got even though your name is never the one on the interview. Dependable. Steady. Always ready. You are the man. We love you assistant coach.

The Head Coach

You, a leader in the school. You, a figurehead in the community. I see you, and so does everybody else. You take the praise, but you also take the bullets. When the team does well, you praise the boys and the men on your staff. When the team does poorly, you say you need to do better. You spin more plates in the air than you can count and you need a secretary, although you can’t afford one. You sometimes miss the days when you could just coach and love kids, but you know that your leadership is exponentially impacting all involved. We love you head coach.

For additional messages to the Line Coach, Skills Coach, and Atypical Coach, read the full post here.

As we enter the emotion of graduation season, I want to refer back to a little section of Scripture that touched my heart in an unexpected way this Easter. It’s found where the author describes the reaction of the women at the empty tomb:

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified.  He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay.  Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.”

So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples (Matt. 23:5-8, NIV).

“Afraid yet filled with joy.” I’m certain this was not my first time hearing those words. But, for whatever reason, this relatable mix of emotions hit me afresh. It felt like, “Of course. Afraid yet filled with joy. No matter what century it is, women know exactly what it means to experience those two feelings at the same time.”

My next thought (maybe because it’s spring?) was for a very specific group of Moms. A group of Moms who, because I am a high school coach’s wife, are near and dear to my heart. They are the Moms of the graduates. Their specific mix of “afraid yet filled with joy” is something I get the privilege to witness every year because the graduation of your children is one of those times when “afraid yet filled with joy” feels completely accurate.

And so, Moms of graduates, in this time of busyness, reflection, emotion, and ceremony I wanted to share what came to my mind for you on that Easter morning. I hope it brings you comfort and a smile.

For the Moms of Graduates

You’ve done well. No matter whether your kid is graduating with honors or barely scraped by, he or she is probably going to be all right. It’s amazing, pretty much all of them figure it out—eventually. Yes, even the squirrely ones.

The whole transition to being co-adults is a little weird. It’s bizarre to not have the same direction or control you’ve had for the past 18 years. But, it also seems like many families make the transition easier than they thought they would. You will find your way forward in this awkward, neat new stage.

That said, the next four to six years will likely be a mix of, “How much do I help?” and, “Oh sheesh, I hope they’re going to be okay.” But, also at some point in those years, most of you eventually take a deep breath and say, “Huh, looks like they’re going to make it.” So many of these kids who sometimes couldn’t get out of bed or turn their homework in on time do become the most incredible, responsible adults.

You’ve got some really neat moments ahead of you. Things like when they get hired for their first “grown-up job”, weekends and summers at home that feel (mostly) like old times, and “I met someone” who turns out to be the one. It kind of feels like your heart and your eyes are trying to focus as this child of yours turns into a grown-up who manages to capture even more of your heart, tenderness, and respect.

And, now for my favorite stuff. I want you to know that I love seeing you again when we each have a few more wrinkles, you hug me in your fancy dress and I say, “That was a beautiful wedding.” It is also one of my very favorite things when I see mini-me’s of that 18-year-old we knew and you tell me your new title is Gigi/Nana/Granny or whatever else he or she has named you. Really, that part is so much fun.

In short, as your kid graduates, I just want you to hear from someone who has two decades of experience watching graduate after graduate grow up, this really is so much more of a beginning than an end. I know you may feel “afraid yet filled with joy.” But, there are so many beautiful things ahead.

Good job Mama of the graduate. You made it.

PS – For the Mamas I’ve loved who did not or do not get the experience above, I’ve not forgotten you. In fact, my heart is especially tender toward you today. I know some of you are still hoping for a turnaround. And, for others, your journey in this way has ended. I know that graduation season can be a tough one as people hope for futures you and your kiddo didn’t get. Please know you are loved and you and your graduate are remembered and prayed for today.

Check out more of Anne’s mental health and faith content on her blog, in her Bible studies, and through speaking engagements!

*Originally published May 9, 2023

Enjoyed writing a 40,000 flyover about mental health for this month’s mental health awareness. See below for a preview or read the full post here. Thanks to Missouri Partners in Prevention for the opportunity to continue to write with you!

Year after year, the culture improves in awareness, advocacy, and accessibility of mental health knowledge and services. In that same breath, we also acknowledge that great strides are needed. Concerns related to insurance, availability of providers, and a lack of health equity mean we have much work to do. Despite these challenges, we wanted to take some time to provide some broad-stroke information about mental health that will remind us all how important this month of awareness is and how we can be a part of the solution.

General Mental Health Information

• Mental health is a broad term that refers to a person’s psychological, social, and emotional well-being.
• Mental health is affected by our genetics and life experiences (nature + nurture).
• Just like everyone has a degree of physical health, everyone has a degree of mental health.
• “Mental wellness” refers to feeling generally positive about one’s self and circumstances paired with the ability to cope with daily activities and challenges. Mental wellness is also sometimes referred to as an active process of pursuing “mental fitness.”
• In contrast, “mental illnesses” are disorders of mood, thinking, and/or behavior that require criteria for diagnosis via the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5).
• It is important to note that while everyone occasionally feels sad, angry, grieves, and has mood changes, what often distinguishes temporary adjustment difficulties from a mental disorder is the intensity, duration, and interference with one’s ability to cope/function.

Mental Health Statistics

It is hard to offer confident mental health statistics. The reasons for this are many. Mental health care is still, in some ways, a developing field with a complicated history. Many mental health disorders used to be criminalized or used as grounds for removing people from society. And, while brain mapping, chemical studies, and blood samples can tell us some things about a person’s mental health experience, much of what we know still comes down to someone’s described experience.

For this reason, as much as mental health disorders are physical health experiences that can improve with therapy and/or medication, it is harder to point to a test number or result as a guide for treatment. Scientists are working hard to find more concrete ways to understand mental health disorders, so providers have increased ways to be more accurate and effective with treatment and medication. And, of course, many people who are suffering don’t (or can’t) seek treatment. All of this means that it’s just not as easy to say how many people have a mental health disorder as it is to pinpoint a number for a physical illness.

With these parameters in mind, the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) cites that 1 out of every 5 people, or 20% of the population experiences a mental illness. Other organizations offer numbers closer to 1 out of every 4 or 25% of the population. Some other commonly cited statistics are:

• The symptoms of many mental health disorders often first appear in someone’s late teens or early 20s although they can occur outside of this range. It is important to remember that experiences such as trauma can bring on mental challenges at any age.
• People can have co-occurring disorders (i.e., depression and anxiety) that require support for both concerns.
• Depression and anxiety are the most commonly experienced mental health disorders.
• Suicide is often connected to the mental health diagnosis of depression and/or substance abuse disorder. Men are more likely to die by suicide while women are more likely to attempt it. The discrepancy is typically associated with the difference in the lethality of the method.
• We have barely scratched the surface. There are hundreds of classified forms of mental disorders in the DSM-5.

What Part Can We Play in Mental Health Care?

To finish the full post link here…

*Originally published May 22, 2022

Christmas 2022 fell on a Sunday. And while that isn’t especially remarkable, several people highlighted that the next time Christmas would fall on a Sunday is 2033. Gracious, how different our lives will be by then.

When that Sunday rolls around, my son will be 22, and my daughter, 18. Pending all of the hopeful/traditional things occurring, my husband and I will be empty nesters, edging towards retirement, intentionally transitioning into all the things the back half of life holds.

What brought this reflection back with roaring clarity was the news we heard today. A dear friend, diagnosed with cancer only three weeks ago, has already passed away. The whiplash of this reminded me afresh, we are guaranteed nothing beyond the very breath we are taking. And, I want to make sure we’re living that way. Thankfully, the Christmas of 2022 already started that process.

Following all the discussion that year about how different life will be when Christmas again falls on a Sunday, our family made a small but poignant change. On the dry-erase board in our kitchen, where information changes regularly, one thing remains the same. It reads, “Ten years from now…” and our future ages: Us in our 50s, kids in their late teens and early 20s. It will be here before we know it.

For that reason, it serves as a reminder, a touchstone, and a guide to ask questions like this:

• Ten years from now, what vacations do we want to have taken with our children?
• Ten years from now, how will we want to have spent time with our parents?
• Ten years from now, will it matter that we did this extra activity?
• Ten years from now, would that job opportunity be a good choice?
• Ten years from now…will this matter? Will that matter? What really matters?

Ten years from now…

Such a simple reframe and yet, whenever we follow that answer, it is almost always the most satisfying solution because it helps us align with our deepest values.

Whether it’s ten minutes, ten days, or ten years from now, I want so very much to be living true to what really matters in the great big scheme of it all because we only get one opportunity at this thing called life. May we do it well.

*Oh, and hey Ryan, we miss you buddy. Sure wish we had another 10 years. You were one of the really good ones.

Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash, used with permission.

Check out more of Anne’s mental health and faith content on her blog, in her Bible studies, and through speaking engagements!

Welcome, dear reader, to a quick reflection on “garage sale season” and the unexpected ways it can help us love, serve, and honor one another.

Oddly, garage sales are one of the only times in modern society when people will just “show up” at your home. Depending on your set-up, they are not just in front of your house but likely in your driveway, garage, or even inside. It is a socially intimate stretch for the garage sale-er and the garage sale-ee to exist together within the physical, emotional, and psychological space normally reserved for family and friends.

Having done only a few garage sales myself, I am always surprised by the number of people who come not only to shop, but to talk. Making their way around, they don’t just ask about prices. They also sometimes ask about the purpose and history of items or offer what memories they brought up for them. Specifically, I want to share about two people I’ve met over the years. We’ll call them Mike and Carol.

Mike, a thin gentleman in his 60’s, inquired about a yellow bike. He shared that he had recently lost over eighty pounds following gastric bypass surgery and hoped to continue his health journey. Then, pausing briefly and tearing up, he also mentioned it looked like his Dad’s bike, and he missed him very much. It was so neat to hear his story, congratulate him, and offer comfort for his Dad’s memory. He walked that bike to his car with a smile.

Carol, a grandma, was definitely not the typical grandma’s age. She looked, patiently searching for toys and books for her seven grandchildren. Of the seven, she shared that only one was biologically related. Even so, she had recently taken all of them in to help support her now-sober, degree-seeking daughter-in-law after a tough start in life. She was clearly proud of them and there was no suggestion of a burden. I was touched by her generosity and helping her love them with “stuff” we didn’t need anymore.

In addition to the exchanges from that day, I’ve also enjoyed some items and stories from garage sales. Things like baby items for my son after learning I was pregnant. Fifty-cent toys for nieces and nephews who then heard about “who used to use that toy.” And, the “big kid bike” conversation because the seller’s kid was now past the stage mine was entering. In short, all of it was more than a transfer of goods. It was the honoring of one another’s journeys.

So, as the days grow warm and neighborhood garage sale days arrive, let us not go out “just because.” Instead, may we enter those driveways and welcome people to ours with intention. Whatever items we are done with not only leaves us with “stuff” to offer but also stories—and maybe even some wisdom and love to pass along.

It is in this exchange of connection, not simply things, where the hidden ministry in garage sales is found. May we keep our eyes open for the deals—and the opportunities.

Photo by Charisse Kenion, used with permission

Originally posted March 24, 2022. Updated for freshness & clarity.

As one of the most frequently repeated concepts in the Bible, God knew we needed a lot of reminding to not fear, not be afraid, not worry, etc. And, for so many things I feel like I can get on board with that. But, for a handful of others, it feels extra hard. Like health concerns. And sick parents. And losing jobs. Oh yeah, and our children. As far as I’ve been able to discern, there is apparently no asterisk in the Bible that says, “Do not worry (*except about your children).” How the heck are we supposed to do that?!

As a counselor, I know that simply telling someone not to worry is not super helpful. We want strategies! And, I don’t believe for one second that God is insensitive to how hard it is for us to not be afraid or not worry about something as precious as our kids. Of course, He’s given us some obvious tools like prayer and specific verses about parenting. But, He’s also tucked away some additional gems. I wanted to share just one I came across the other day.

Check out this oft-quoted section of Psalm 127 here:

³ Children are a heritage from the Lord,
    offspring a reward from him.
⁴ Like arrows in the hands of a warrior
    are children born in one’s youth.
⁵ Blessed is the man
    whose quiver is full of them.
They will not be put to shame
    when they contend with their opponents in court.
(Ps. 127:3-5)

And now, the verses just before that:

¹Unless the Lord builds the house,
    the builders labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
    the guards stand watch in vain.
² In vain you rise early
    and stay up late,
toiling for food to eat—
    for he grants sleep to those he loves.
(Ps. 127:1-2)

That’s it. The entirety of Psalm 127 is five verses, half about children and half about laboring in vain. I propose this is not by accident. God knows how so many of us labor “in vain” over our children thinking that if we just keep trying hard enough, we will finally manage to be and do and give everything they need—until we are exhausted. And, in doing so, forget He is the one who really does all that.

Remember, when used correctly, God’s Word always intends to bring about freedom. Consider the applications offered here…

(v.1a) Unless the Lord builds our homes, we are just spinning our wheels. Exhausting ourselves to make sure our children have everything we think they need, access to every opportunity, and avoidance of every hardship leaves little room for how He might build their lives. He offers us the freedom to trust He is building them, rather than exhausting ourselves to make sure they experience “our” best standards.

(v.1b) Rather than perpetually standing guard over their lives, we could find ourselves able to breathe knowing that God is watching over them, with a better view than we will ever have. He offers us the freedom to reduce the intensity of our vigilance, knowing that He is with them as they grow in independence, ability, risk, etc. Visualizing Him standing guard brings great peace.

(v.2) And, this final part from verse two really got me. What if, as parents, we wholesale reject the idea that good parents are always supposed to be exhausted? Instead, He offers us permission to accept help and pursue normal human amounts of rest instead of rising early, staying up late, and toiling. For He loves us, and “He grants sleep to those He loves.” A rested mind is far less likely to fall into irrational worry.

Whatever you are “toiling in vain” for today, please know you are not alone. Each of us has things that fall into this *very-hard-not-to-worry category because fear is such a strong motivator.

May each of us seek to remove whatever our “worry asterisks” are. And, may the permissions and reminders given in this Psalm help us reduce the ways we are “laboring in vain”, allowing God to build, guard, and grant us the rest He designed.

PS – For those who are interested in an extra fun fact, Psalm 127 is one of 15 Psalms known as “Songs of Ascent.” These were the songs sung by Hebrew pilgrims to encourage them as they headed uphill to Jerusalem for annual festivals at the Temple.

A word from God designed to encourage a routine uphill journey toward worship? If that’s not a message to bless parenting I don’t know what is.

Photo by Xavier Mouton Photographie on Unsplash, used with permission

Originally published 2/8/2023, updated for freshness & clarity.

I must admit, I tend to feel a little funny offering reflections for Ash Wednesday. It is such a sacred day in some denominations. But, because it has rarely been a part of my own church experience, I somehow feel unqualified. Oh well, as out-of-place as I may feel, this day has become important to me. May this reflection bless you, offer gratitude to those who have welcomed me in their traditions, and gather us all toward the coming glory of Easter.

Years after I became a Christian, I had my first experience with Ash Wednesday. While I was (vaguely) aware of Lent, I didn’t know anything about this specific day. Arriving at the Catholic school I was serving at the time, I was confused as to why all the kids had black “smudges” on their heads. Imagine my embarrassment as an adult in the room who definitely had to have teenagers teach me about the ashes they received.

My second experience took place at a non-denominational event when someone placed ashes on the foreheads of those in attendance. I remember really liking the symbolism. And, I remember feeling part of an important ritual, somehow beautifully and mysteriously tying me to my own (many, many) Catholic ancestors.

The final (and ongoing) experience has been through my husband’s childhood Lutheran church. When visiting, I have learned so much about the specific days and rituals practiced by so many Christians throughout Lent (the 40 days before Easter, not including Sundays) and Eastertide (the 50 days after Easter). I have previously written about how my Easter experience has been blessed and enhanced by their approach to days in this season such as Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday.

The Beauty of Ash Wednesday

So, whether Ash Wednesday is a part of your tradition or not, the beauty of this day lies primarily in two things: perspective and reflection on our own mortality.

A few verses often used in Ash Wednesday services:

“Then the LORD God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.” Gen. 2:7

“By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.” Gen. 3:19

“All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return.” Ecc. 3:20

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.” Ps. 103:13-14

As much of a bummer as these verses may sound, there are gifts to be found in recognizing our mortality. Let’s consider just a few:

1. When we reflect on how short our time is, it focuses us. We are less likely to spend time or energy on trivial things, instead clarifying our ideals and behavior to match what truly matters.
   
   
2. When we understand how frail our bodies are, we can stop obsessing over appearance. Yes, take good care of your “temple” but outward appearance was never meant to be idealized or worshiped. It was meant to be used in service to others.
   
   
3. When we grasp what we came from, and what we will return to, we can let go of all that unnecessary self-importance. Yes, we are immeasurably valuable to God but we also think way too much of ourselves sometimes. Living in this paradox is our lifelong battle between humility and pride.
   
   
4. In Psalm 103 above, we hear God’s love for us. In our ever-present struggle to “have it all together” He says, I got you. Follow Me, for I know how hard it is in that dust-bound shell of yours. It is My compassion that will get you through these years.
   
   
5. Most importantly, the reflection and embracing of our mortality sets us up for a celebration of Easter like nothing else. How much more the joy of that day when we grasp how the love of Jesus will be with us long after these human bodies fail.

Well, there you go, folks. An Ash Wednesday devotional from a non-denominational gal who has come to love the symbolism of this day. Whether you attend a formal service to recognize the start of Lent or just step out your door and run your fingers through the earth, I hope your experience is a blessed one. From dust we came and to dust we will return. Pumped to see you someday on the other side in glory.

Photo by Ahna Ziegler on Unsplash, used with permission

Originally published 3/1/22, updated for clarity and relevance.

I get a big kick out of noticing something “new” in the Bible. This phenomenon of the “living word” (Heb. 4:12) is both fascinating and a great encouragement to keep reading and studying because you never know when something will take on a new light.

For today, let’s check out this familiar story:

Then Jesus told them this parable: “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.” ~ Luke 15:3-7 (NIV)

The ninety-nine. It’s a story many of us are familiar with. The whole idea that Jesus would take off into the wilderness to recover one lost sheep is something that has comforted generations of Christians who were all at some point “the one.” However, while the story of Jesus going after the sheep is wonderful, it wasn’t until today that I noticed the way He carried the sheep back…

…joyfully on His shoulders.

• Not yelling at the sheep for wandering off.
• Not forcing the sheep to walk as penance.
• Not whipping her for being so stupid.
• Not with sarcasm as an escort.
• Not with harsh consequences so “maybe she’d learn her lesson.”
• Not withdrawing His affection.

…joyfully on His shoulders.

I don’t know how this strikes you today. One obvious application is to consider our attitude toward others who have wandered. Those for whom perhaps we’ve gone “above and beyond” in terms of effort, energy, or resources to try to bring them back to safety. Like maybe your kid, maybe a sibling, maybe a friend, maybe…whomever.

But, in addition to applying Jesus’s example of grace and mercy to others, I want you to consider another person as well.

You.

Without a shadow of a doubt, I know this is being read by people who readily dole out grace and mercy to others. But to yourself? Sometimes that’s harder.

• Because we get so mad at ourselves for wandering off, again.
• Or treat ourselves poorly to “make up” for yet another mistake.
• Let our minds pile up with critical words.
• Mock ourselves with internal sarcasm.
• Or withdraw hope and affection because, somehow, we still think it’s our job to fix ourselves.

My fellow human, may this bring you both comfort and freedom. In Jesus’s own words, He told us His wandering sheep are not only valuable enough to chase but precious enough to carry “joyfully on His shoulders.” You are no more meant to save yourself now than the first day He carried you home.

No matter how you may be struggling, I hope it is from atop His broad, capable shoulders. It’s the safest and most loving way to travel.

*Originally published January 2023, updated for clarity & freshness.

Anne writes and speaks regularly about living out authentic faith with compassion. Check out more writing in her blog or her speaking here.

Photo by Külli Kittus on Unsplash, used with permission

Writing over at The Glorious Table about the value of starting slowly when it comes to new habits or difficult environments. Also, truly enjoyed this opportunity to share one of my all-time favorite memories with my Mom. Read on for a preview below or link to the full post here.

When I was fifteen years old, I received a rather unconventional—not to mention memorable—driving lesson from my mom. That winter, we’d had a stretch of bad weather, and everything was covered in snow and ice. But after the main roads were cleared, Mom drove me up to our local high school parking lot. Because I went to a really big high school, the parking lot was also really big. Even so, for a fifteen-year-old who had only been driving on a permit for a few months, it still seemed a bit intimidating.

Once we arrived, she stopped somewhere in the middle, and we crunched our way around the car to switch seats. Once I was in the driver’s seat, she told me I was going to spend some time in this environment to learn how to drive safely in winter weather.

Um, OK, Mom. Let’s be reckless on purpose. What could possibly happen?

Well, as much as it may seem like I am building up to some disastrous scene, this whole adventure was an absolute blast for me and a big parenting victory for Mom. I didn’t crash into any of the light poles, the outer walls of my high school remained unscathed, and not a single scratch or dent ended up on the vehicle. Instead, what I gained were memories of laughing and hollering with her as she taught me how to get a donut started and how to straighten it out, how to build up enough speed to skid and then allow the car to slow down without slamming on the brakes, and how to do a “slick check” after starting, rather than assuming I knew what the conditions would be. I took away valuable information from that one unconventional day of training with my mom.

I share all of this to say that while a donut or skid is certainly possible while driving in the snow, one of the most important lessons I learned that day was not about stopping. It was about starting. It’s the awareness that getting going is sometimes the hardest part when conditions are difficult. And while this is true of cars, it can also be true of people. The way we start can determine how, or even if, we get going at all.

Why Starting Slowly Is Sometimes the Best Way Forward

In this first part of the year, so many of us put our minds (and efforts) toward starting anew. Maybe it’s a health goal or a financial one. Maybe we’ve started a new reading habit or prayer routine. Regardless, whatever you’ve started, you may have found that when you’re making a difficult change, starting out quickly doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere. Instead, you just feel like you’re spinning your wheels. What gives?

I don’t mean to over-spiritualize the beginnings of change. And yet, so many of the difficult changes God brought about in Scripture were not instant. They were gradual. They were realized after years of people waiting and being faithful. And, maybe, the most important realization is that this was purposeful. God did not ignore the pleas of his people to “hurry up” because he’s mean, busy, or dismissive. He allows things to take time, sometimes a long time, because he knows it’s in the waiting, in the patience, in the perseverance, that we truly grow.

To finish the full post link here.

*Originally published January 2023, updated for clarity & freshness.