Seasons of Grace

 It has been three years since my last entry, and as I sit here in the not-so-quiet of my living room, the sun filtering through the dusty windowpanes, I reflect on the journey that has unfolded before me. My walk with God is still maturing, much like the garden outside, which has seen its share of storms and sunshine.

Over the last five years, I have learned that sometimes your ministry is your family—the people you live with, the ones who share your joys and sorrows. I have watched my children grow, each step a testament to the grace that has carried us through. 

But life has a way of shaking our foundations. I lost a parent, a loss that reverberated through my very being, shaking my relationship with God to its core. The grief was a heavy cloak, one that I wore for far too long, and in my anger, I found myself drifting away from the very source of comfort I sought. I graduated one child from our homeschool, a bittersweet moment that filled my heart with pride and a tinge of sorrow. The world outside beckoned, and I knew my little bird was ready to fly. And, now I continue to guide the last two teens, who will be seniors next year. They are driving now, a new chapter in their lives, and I often find myself marveling at how quickly time has passed.

No one teaches you that stress can feel like an emotional basket, overflowing with worries and fears. I have learned that what I thought was self-sacrifice for my family was merely my job, a role I embraced with both love and exhaustion. I finished writing my trilogy, a labor of love that will be published within two weeks. The words poured from my heart, a cathartic release of the laughter and tears that have colored my days.

As I sit here, I ponder my walk with Christ, which is ever-changing. I know I don’t deserve His love and salvation, yet I often tell myself that family Bible time or Bible lessons for the kids’ school are enough. I have found that this is not the case. I have noticed that I stopped praying as I used to, my heart heavy with unspoken words. Most likely, it was because I became angry at God for not answering my prayers in the way I thought He should have.

It has taken strong rebuke and teaching from special people in my life to open my eyes. Perhaps I became too boastful on this blog, wanting to portray a perfect walk with Christ. I wanted it to be a place where people could see that Christians struggle too, a beacon of hope that with perseverance, God is still in control and still loves us.

As I write this, I ponder where I am in my walk. I can only say I am here, I am growing, and I am not alone. I have an army by my side—my family, my friends, and most of all, a God who loves me.

The seasons of grace have taught me that faith is not a straight path but a winding road filled with unexpected turns. I remember the days when we would sit with our children, the Bible open before us, and we would explore the stories of old. Those moments were sacred, a time when we connected not just with the words on the page but with each other and with God.

Now, as I watch my children navigate their own paths, I realize that my role has shifted. I am no longer just their teacher; I am their witness, their supporter, and sometimes, their student. They teach me about resilience, about the beauty of imperfection, and about the importance of grace.

I recall a day not long ago when we gathered around the dinner table, laughter echoing off the walls. The aroma of a home-cooked meal filled the air, and for a moment, the weight of the world lifted. We shared stories, dreams, and fears, and in that space, I felt the presence of God among us. It was a reminder that our ministry is not confined to the walls of a church but is woven into the fabric of our daily lives.

As I prepare for the publication of my third book in the trilogy, I am filled with a sense of accomplishment. Filled with hope that I can give space for kids and adults to dream.

In the quiet moments, when the world slows down, I find myself returning to prayer. It is in those sacred whispers that I reconnect with God, pouring out my heart, my fears, and my gratitude. I am learning that it is okay to be vulnerable and to admit that I don’t have all the answers.

As I close this entry, I am reminded that life is a tapestry of experiences, each thread contributing to the whole. I am grateful for the lessons learned, the love shared, and the grace that continues to sustain me. My walk with God is not perfect, but it is real, and for that, I am thankful.

In the end, I realize that the journey is not about perfection but about progress. It is about embracing the messiness of life and finding beauty in the brokenness. I am here, I am growing, and I am learning to trust in the One who holds my heart.