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In my life, I have found it easier to praise God when I have purpose to be thankful. There are so many instances of answered prayer on behalf of myself or others that encourage just that. He is so worthy to be praised! But, do I ever just praise without any other purpose than He is indeed worthy?

I love the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead. The details show the perfect blend of Christ’s humanity and divinity. Jesus arrives to a scene of mourning people as Lazarus has been dead for days. Mary and Martha are saddened that He didn’t arrive sooner to heal their brother. Christ joins in their weeping, prays to His father and then calls Lazarus to arise from the dead. Can you picture being there witnessing such a miracle?

The circumstances in my life that brought out the truth of grace to me was actually the most difficult season of suffering I have experienced to date: my journey through infertility. When I think about those years of anguish and struggle, I recall the darkness that surrounded me. I internalized all of my pain and projected it in anger and bitterness in prayers to God. When He brought about a heart change in me and I finally stopped fighting against His will, the pain dissipated. When He gave us our daughter through adoption, I understood grace.

I have never considered myself a person who worries. If there is an event that I have no control over – like those insurance claims for so-called ‘acts of God’ – I take the approach that we’ve prepared as best we can and whatever the outcome, we’ll make do. God will take care of us.

I am an adoptive mom. I proclaim this unashamedly for adopting our daughter has been one of the most amazing blessings God has given to me. I don’t look at our adoption journey as something that was second best or to be kept a secret. Even before we learned of our infertility, my husband and I had discussed adoption. It was always in our plans for growing our family. We simply just didn’t realize that it was the only plan God had to grow our family! But, we’re so overwhelmingly grateful that He gave us our daughter.

More days than not, I am faced with my own depravity. My humanity desires to overpower the Spirit of God that dwells within me. It desires to pursue the will of my flesh. It seeks after the charms of this world and only wants to live for the temporary. Oh how my soul mourns over my lack of strength to once and for all defeat these temptations!

It is back to school season in our home. Our daughter is excitedly anticipating her return to the classroom and her school friends – probably not in that exact order. :) Adalai is not a child who struggles with anxiety when it comes to firsts. When we dropped her off at Junior Kindergarten orientation at the tender age of barely 4, she walked right into the classroom and didn’t even look back to say goodbye. When we dropped her off for her first overnight camp, she gave us a hug and said that it was time for us to leave. We have no concerns with her ability to cope in new situations!

Every year at this time I feel the natural pull to reflect on all that has happened throughout the year passed. This end of summer reflection certainly dates back to my school years but it’s also spurred on by the fact that it’s around this time of year that I celebrate my birthday. This year I turn 39 – the age I’m told most women begin to ‘hold’ at and no longer share their age. As I enter this final year of my thirties, I can’t help but look back at how my life has unfolded in this last decade and all those before.

I was raised in a hymn singing church. It wasn’t until my pre-teen years that the church my family attended decided to branch out and allow worship choruses to be sung. While I love a variety of music that enables me to enter into worship of my God, I have a special place in my heart for the hymns that I learned by heart in my early childhood.

Is it just me or does anyone else struggle with confession? I am a perfectionist so I try to do all that I do as well as I can. When I fall short of the mark, I first look for outside reasons as to why I have failed to be perfect. Of course, most of the time the responsibility is solely mine. If my failure to be perfect has affected another person, the need for me to publicly announce my inadequacies is an unwelcome prospect. And yet, the confession of wrong-doing and requesting forgiveness is so freeing! Oh, how my stubborn pride holds me back from truly experiencing freedom in Christ!