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A Surprising Camaraderie

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2, 028. That's roughly the number of Sunday mornings I've experienced so far in my lifetime. Let's say I spent roughly 1.5 hours each of those mornings at church (although it was more than that when I was in churches that had adult Sunday school classes). That means I've been exposed to church, JUST on Sunday mornings, roughly 3,042 hours so far. That's equal to 126.75 days. 18 weeks. We're not even considering all the years of Sunday night services, Wednesday night AWANA clubs, and hours spent in Bible studies. Oh, and let's not forget the 17 years of Christian education between elementary school, high school, and college. It's fair to say I've had a tremendous amount of exposure to God's word and Biblical teaching. Much more than your average person, I'd guess. And though I'm no Bible scholar, FAR from it, actually, I would venture to say that my Bible trivia knowledge is probably above average in today's cu
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Time for some honesty.  Time for some reflecting on...well, time.  I am currently standing on the sidelines watching a family endure the most agonizing thing imaginable - the loss of a child. 17 years old. Vibrant. Healthy. Beautiful. A heart for Jesus that I envy.  My heart aches for them daily. I wake in the middle of the night with the Spirit's nudge to pray for them. The first day I heard of the accident, my prayer was for the Lord to literally help them breathe under the suffocating weight of grief that had hit them out of nowhere. I continue to pray because there's nothing else I know to do right now. Time will ease their pain, but not free them from the ache they will feel forever.  I've thought some about my own family's journey with grief and how time both helps and hinders the healing process.   I don't for one second compare divorce to the unspeakable pain of losing a child, and I want to be very clear on that. That is a category of g

The Day Before

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The fog is lifting. I can see a few more feet ahead of me on this journey I've been on. My steps feel more sure. More natural. More...dare I say it? Normal. I've found a rhythm that fits our new life and things are good. The dark doesn't seem quite as penetrating. The ground isn't as unsteady. What lies just around the corner isn't nearly so menacing as it once seemed in all its mysterious unknowns. No, things are not perfect. The circumstances I find us in are not what I wanted or ever would have chosen for us. Not at all. And yet, things are good. So very good. Every now and then I start to sigh with relief that surely, surely, I've learned all there is to learn about divorce and navigating life as a single parent. Surely I've reached the end of some aspects of divorce. Right, God? My journal is full of documented lessons and summaries of some of the things I've come to understand. And yet there are still so many lessons God has y