More and more I find that what I used to consider my greatest hindrances were, in fact, my greatest teachers. I used to believe that my troubles were attributable to lack of finances and consequently, thought all of them could be solved by a surplus. I considered disadvantages and often almost totally overlooked the great trust and creativity I was developing and gaining over the years. I used to overlook what God was placing right before my eyes. Troubled with how things were going to work out—crippled by fear that they wouldn’t, days were difficult and money seemed scarce. Little did I know at the time that I would look back on the more difficult days and remember them with sort of fond, perhaps bittersweet, emotion.
I’m sorry for the young woman who was so fearful, but happy for the way the LORD did provide and for the ways she learned to cope, learned to be creative, learned to be hopeful, learned to trust and increased in faith. But the younger woman who used to live in my shoes was often plagued by the “what will people think” albatross, and was shackled by doubts and insecurities – as I suppose we all are from time to time, but when they become interwoven in every thought, they’re like that heavy, paralyzing albatross. The LORD worked through all those sorts of situations and blessed me with a sort of “blindness” to my situation— a sort of “rose coloured glasses” tenor to my life—and brought me through those valleys. I began to see things less and less for what they were and more and more for what I hoped they would be. Sure, the lack of finances still was a hindrance, but I stopped allowing myself to feel as though that defined me or my family. I decided to stop getting tripped up in the trappings of the have’s and have not’s in life—they weren’t helping me. I decided to not let my possessions define who I am—other people may have judged me in that manner—but I never wanted to be that shallow and I knew the LORD didn’t want that for me either. He was taking me through the school of contentment. Had I not had lack or loss, I’d not have learned to be very creative with what I do have. I suppose I might’ve become smug or assume it was my doing when there were increases or “successes.” I surely know that whatever good has come, whatever gain I’ve experienced: successes, benefits or blessings have all been of the LORD.
Some of the deepest valleys produced the richest fruit and it’s faith from those lessons that has guided me through the more recent years and the struggles or trials we’ve faced. When trails have been forged or mountains scaled, the path is a bit less daunting each time it’s traversed. And with each passing, faith is strengthened and trust is deepened. With each passing year, the have’s and the have not’s are less and less noticeable to me and my concern is less self-focused. Pride is an ugly thing I came to see, for it is often pride that keeps us from living and giving—pride is that gripping thing that prevents us from being transparent, from being open and vulnerable. We all have it to some degree or another and sometimes, when we very least anticipate it, pride wells up and swallows us. Gains and losses are the great equalizers in life—they happen to all of us.
Because I know my Redeemer lives and ever lives to make intercession for me —for us—I know that I can trust Him beyond a shadow of doubt: that what He has promised to do, that will He do. He promised to never leave me nor forsake me and He promises in His Word that He will complete that which He has begun.
So the LORD has used trials as teachers, loss as gain, and lack: to fill me. His faithfulness is great, His mercies have been new every morning.
The days seem long but the years are quickly passing. As I typed that, I recalled saying something similar in the early years of motherhood: the days are long and the weeks fly by. 
Lots of women do this. Every day they do this. For years I wrote every day. But then a reality check came. And the reality was this: I was so consumed with doing all I was doing that I forgot/neglected what I was supposed to be doing.
Through our lives we have experiences that are etched on our hearts and minds — experiences that shape our thinking, shape our reactions, shape our responses, shape our decisions — maybe even shape our initial theology or lack thereof. If these etchings were recorded on 3×5 cards, in time we’d have quite a card file full, wouldn’t we? Events and experiences, lessons and influences all recorded on cards make up our individual card catalogs. It’s interesting to me, every now and then, to come across a card I realize has had a profound impact on my life and thinking. One of the greatest regrets I have from a young age is collecting a couple of influence cards I wish I’d never acquired. On the cards are written: the suicide option. I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently… deaths of friends and loved ones, news headlines trigger memories… the file drawer opens… the influence cards tumble out.
…He [the devil] was a murderer from the beginning,
Welcome Home. Some of the sweetest words we all long to hear, long to read, long to know: Welcome Home.
Living 99 years… imagine that. This journal entry is inspired by the 99th birthday of our aunt Martha. The more time passes, the more I hear of her life, the more I see the inestimable potential value of a life. She’s lived through so many seasons, so many early tragic hardships, trials, losses, disappointments. Those seasons blended into elegance, grandeur, and luxury in her life. And as some of those things slipped away, faded or diminished, she’s carried on more alone, quiet, living in memories of days gone by. She’s one of the strongest women I’ve known. She’s a long, long way down the track of life.
I didn’t realize, a couple of days ago when I blogged about 
I was once in an accident that blindsided me. It happened in a startling flash! And though nearly four decades have passed, I haven’t forgotten sitting there in the car, shocked that while making a left turn in a blind hilltop intersection, I’d just been spun around and was facing an entirely different direction on the hill I’d intended to drive down to go home. Soon I would talk with an officer and would receive a citation and have to go to traffic court. It was a mercy that a very lenient judge determined that though the accident was my fault for failing to yield right of way, were I to successfully attend and pass the traffic school course, I could, once again, have a “clean” driving record. Completing the course may have changed the record, but I knew differently. Even though I now had no blot on my record (and no one was injured), I still knew the accident was my fault. I didn’t drive again for a long time.