Morning

Today I'm participating in Five Minute Friday, a free write link-up hosted by Kate Motaung. Here are my brief thoughts on the topic of morning:

No one who’s ever lived with me would describe me as a morning person. Those who have worked with me might—but that’s because by the time they interacted with me, I was sufficiently caffeinated.

My sweet husband brings my coffee in bed. This started as a “deal” we made—I’d make his lunch and get the dinner prep dishes done before he got home from work, meaning we'd have more time to spend together in the evenings; in turn he’d bring me coffee the next morning. I still do those things for him most days, but he still brings me coffee every day...no matter how pleasant or unpleasant I was to him the previous day.

The consistency of this little blessing—which is actually a big deal if you understand my need for caffeine—reminds me that God’s mercies are new every morning too (Lamentations 3:22-23). No matter what happened in the world the day before, and no matter how cranky I was, ironically complaining about my life of rich blessing, God offers me new mercy each and every day! Mercy to start over, mercy to choose a new attitude, mercy to walk with Him. And like my coffee wakes me up and energizes my mind to tackle the day, His mercy infuses me with hope and excitement to see what He has in store for me.

What does morning mean to you?

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What My County Needs

If you’d have asked me two weeks ago what my county needs, I’d have said, “A Target, a Panera, and a Starbucks.” Sometimes life sails along smoothly and deceives me into thinking my deepest needs are for clearance clothing and Caramel Macchiatos.

But today my heart is heavy because of two devastating recent events that have reminded me that I and we are deeply needy—and for things that money can’t buy and a barista can’t pour into a cup. Two weeks ago a well-known, respected, and good couple in our community was arrested for allegedly abusing the children they adopted from another country. Several days ago a gunman opened fire at a local industry, killing several, wounding many, and terrifying many more.

I know people who are close to both of these tragic situations, but I don’t pretend to know the depth of their horror, confusion, and pain. Certainly times like these call into question the people we thought we knew and perhaps even more the God who allowed this. If You’re good, how could You let this happen? Why?

As valid as these questions are, our deepest need is not for answers. What, then? Love? Community? What we need most isn’t a what at all but rather a Who. We need Jesus. Jesus is not a Christian cop-out, a grand delusion for our comfort, a genie in a bottle, or a legendary moral teacher. He is a real person, He is alive, He is God, He is in control, and He is the only true hope for a broken world.

Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? I don’t know. This will never make sense to me this side of heaven. But you know what else doesn’t make sense? God loved us while we were spitting in His face and sent Jesus to take part in the human experience. He lived the perfect life we couldn’t and was murdered for our guilt. God brought Him back to life, and now He’s offered to us the unfathomable gift of grace—a relationship with Him, hope, help, comfort, purpose, and eternal life when we die. He is so good to give us this grace, and He has been good to me personally in a million other ways as I’ve journeyed with Him. So I choose to trust Him for salvation and for all the other things that don’t make sense.

Jesus will not take a Magic Eraser to your pain, but He does understand, and He will walk with you through it, comforting you and never leaving you. He loves you, He died for you, and He wants to be with you for the joys and heartaches of your life—no matter who you are or what you’ve done. My words are honest but imperfect, so I’d love it if you’d go from here to the pages of the Bible because it’s flawless. The book of John is a great place to start. Jesus will meet you there.

“God showed how much He loved us by sending His one and only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through Him. This is real love—not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins.” 1 John 4:9-10

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5 Facts for the 5 Feelings of February

It’s February, month of the heart. When I reflect on the state of my heart during past Februaries, I see high highs, low lows, and everything in between. Whether due to a romantic relationship (or lack thereof) or simply life’s circumstances, my feelings generally fit into one of five categories: fabulous, fine, fickle, fragile, and fed up. This motley crew has made for an emotional roller coaster that has sent me running to solid ground for facts, truth to steady my reeling feelings. God’s Word has much to say about the heart, and its principles have been a lifeline for me. You may even see yourself here and find comfort in facts that are greater than feelings.

Feeling: Fabulous

Fact: “You turned my wailing into dancing; You removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing Your praises and not be silent.” (Psalm 30:11-12a)

God loves us so much! His ultimate gift of love to us is salvation through Jesus, but frequently He goes the extra mile to display His affection through good things that happen in our lives. If you’re in this spot, remember that He’s the source of the joy you’re feeling, thank Him, and enjoy the moment! Do something to memorialize it too--take pictures, write in a journal, etc.--so you can remember God's goodness to you the next time you're not feeling so fabulous. Tell someone else about it too! Your story is powerful and could have a huge impact on a discouraged friend.

Feeling: Fine

Fact: “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” (Proverbs 4:23)

“Fine” is often the answer we give to people who ask how we’re doing when we don't want to discuss how we're really doing. We might be feeling pretty good, or we might be feeling pretty bad, but sometimes we prefer to live in a state of numbness rather than address our true situation. God is not the Authenticity Police, but He does care deeply about your heart because He knows it affects everything you do. Give your heart some self-care by reading the Word thoughtfully, prayerfully, and introspectively; it will meet you right where you are.

Feeling: Fickle

Fact: “The king’s heart is like channels of water in the hand of the Lord; He turns it wherever He wishes.” (Proverbs 21:1)

God knows that we can be fickle, and He’s not phased by how frequently we change our minds. Take comfort in the fact that He is sovereign—over your heart, the heart of the guy you'd like to call you, the heart of your boss from whom you'd like a promotion, and the heart of the estranged relative with whom you'd like to be reconciled. It’s not always clear why God does what He does, but He can certainly be trusted because He is good. So commit your heart and all the others about which you're concerned into His capable hands and rest.

Feeling: Fragile

Fact: “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” (Psalm 73:26)

Sometimes pain leaves us in a place of vulnerability; we don’t want to put ourselves out there, and we don’t dare hope because we can’t bear to get hurt again. Fortunately, we don’t have to muster the strength to go on because we can lean on God’s strength. He is our portion, meaning He is exactly enough for us. Tell Him how you're feeling, and ask Him to help you to draw on His strength.

Feeling: Fed Up

Fact: “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37:4)

Feeling frustrated because nothing is going like you thought it would? Instead of focusing on making things happen and getting what you want, cultivate your relationship with God. As you do so, He may not drop everything you want right into your lap like a genie in a bottle, but He will change your desires to match His desires for you, and then He’ll fulfill them. By the way, many of the desires that we have--for husbands, fulfilling careers, children, financial stability--were given to us by God. He wants to refine us so our hearts will be ready to receive His gifts and give Him glory for them.

The Word contains many more truths about the heart and facts that speak to every variety of feeling. No matter where you are on the wide continuum, I hope this February finds you in possession of all the truth you need.

How are you feeling this February? What fact is giving you comfort, whether one of these or something else?

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On Sweet Potatoes and Humility

Sometimes the smallest things produce the biggest results. My new role of farm wife is teaching me just that!—in more ways than one...

One day last spring my farmer husband of less than a year asked me to pick up twelve sweet potato plants at the local garden center while I was in town. He’d cultivated the garden and was ready to plant them, visions of delicious sweet potato fries, casseroles, and pies dancing in his head.

Eager to please and eager to prove myself as a capable farmer’s wife despite my suburban upbringing, I headed to the garden center. I asked a worker who was watering flowers to point me to the sweet potato plants, to which she inquired, “Sweet potato vines?” “Sure,” I said, feeling a twinge of doubt concerning that word vines but quickly pushing it aside, not wanting to appear as though I didn’t know what I was doing. She directed me to a display covered in lovely pale green and purple leaves. I selected twelve of the best-looking plants, filled a large tray with the small plastic pots, purchased them, and drove to the farm.

When I walked up to the front porch of the farmhouse carrying my flat full of plants, I encountered my father-in-law. The twinkle in his eye and wry smile that spread across his face as he glanced at my armload instantly alerted me to the fact that I’d made a mistake. I recalled my earlier doubt at the garden center, blushed, and said, “I bought the wrong thing, didn’t I?” Ever the diplomat, he simply shrugged his shoulders and allowed my sister-in-law, who’d happened upon the scene, to take over the conversation. “Oh, well!”, she said, having mercy on me. “If you’d never seen them before, you’d have no way of knowing which plants to get.” This gracious response to my blunder helped me to catalog this experience in my mind as one of humility instead of humiliation. My husband responded similarly but sent me right back to the garden center to remedy my error.

The ten-minute drive into town gave me time to ponder this new life of mine and the fact that it felt hopeful and beautiful, yet at the same time foreign and awkward. My previous two jobs had required me to be skilled in performance—one focused on musical performance and one public speaking—so confidence had been a key factor in my success. I was beginning to suspect, however, that it would not primarily be confidence that made me flourish in my role of farm wife—in fact, overconfidence had gotten me into trouble!—but rather humility. I'd need a willingness to admit that there was much I didn't know and a teachable spirit to learn from my husband and others who would help me become acquainted with the unfamiliar yet rewarding ways of farm life.

When I arrived back at the garden center, the teenage boy working the cash register was fortunately uninterested in my embarrassment. He mechanically exchanged my $20 worth of sweet potato vines for $3 of sweet potato plants. To my surprise the twelve plants were tiny, each about six-inches long and together forming a bundle no bigger around than a nickel! I felt silly carrying this flimsy little cluster wrapped in a wet paper towel back to my car when just moments earlier I'd emerged from it with arms full; anyone observing the transaction would be sure to know I wasn't from around here. When I returned to the farm, I helped my husband plant the itty-bitties, again surprised because he’d made twelve mounds of dirt that were very large—much larger than the plants I held in my hand could ever warrant, I thought. But I’d learned my lesson, so I kept these doubts to myself.

Several months later it was time to harvest our sweet potatoes. My husband dug the potatoes while I put them into empty seed sacks. The first sack filled up quickly, and soon we had filled a second…Then a third! By the time we’d harvested all of the sweet potatoes, we had a crop of over 200 pounds! I couldn’t believe that the twelve wimpy-looking plants over which I'd agonized had yielded such an abundance. Our bumper crop even included a huge state fair-worthy sweet potato that weighed 11.2 pounds!

For me that sweet potato harvest was metaphorical. In the same way that the tiny plants produced a large harvest, my small, inconspicuous decision to approach my new farm life with humility has begun to produce big results as well. Through asking a million questions, letting others show me the way, and getting my hands dirty I've learned my way around this way of living a bit more and become more comfortable in my own skin here too. I know my lessons are just beginning, but they are not without their delightful rewards--like the perfectly crisp grilled sweet potato wedges we ate for dinner tonight!

What about you? What small thing can you cultivate now that might produce a big result later?

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Grace for the Rookie Farm Wife

Last week I shared with you “Confessions of a Rookie Farm Wife,” a list of admissions related to how I’m carrying out my role as newbie farm woman extraordinaire. That list was a humorous by-product of a pre-existing list, one which is no laughing matter. I call it “The Farm Wife’s List of Shoulds:”

1.  As a farm wife I should cook/bake everything from scratch.

2.  As a farm wife I should become a master seamstress.

3.  As a farm wife I should have as many children as possible…and homeschool them.

4.  As a farm wife I should work hard sun up to sun down, refusing silly distractions such as making myself a cappuccino or chatting with the cows.

This is only a sampling of items on that sobering list, and guess what? I have other roles as well—blogger, administrative assistant, daughter, minister to college students, and friend, to name a few—and each of these roles has its own list of shoulds. I won’t name all of these shoulds for you because this article would reach lengths not even my mom would read. You’ve got your own set of roles, each with its own list of shoulds.

Where do these shoulds come from? Some come from societal expectation, some from individual people, and many from our own selves. No matter the source, these shoulds are based on a faulty assumption that we can do and be everything, and they create an ever-present sense of shame because—newsflash—we cannot do and be everything.

Jesus has a list of shoulds for the farm wife; would you like to hear it?

1.  Love God.

2.  Love people.

This isn’t an excerpt of His list; it’s complete. Two items. That’s it! And His list is the same for the politician, accountant, pastor, and stay-at-home mom: love God, and love people.

When Jesus walked on earth, He dealt with a group of experts in religious law whose list of shoulds exceeded 600 items—that’s even longer than my list! Do you know what He told them? If they would simply love God and love people, all the other shoulds would take care of themselves. (See Matthew 22:34-40.) The same is true for us. Loving God and loving people are not single-step concrete tasks but rather a framework by which to measure other decisions. If this is sounding complicated, stick with me! I can’t wait for you to see the freedom this brings.

Let’s use a classic farm wife task for a case study: frying chicken. Oooh, I love fried chicken! I could eat some right now, never mind that it’s 9:30am. Is making fried chicken loving? As a devoted consumer of fried chicken and granddaughter of an expert chicken fryer, let me say a resounding yes! I know my family members would agree that the delicious food Grandma served was a tangible expression of her deep love for us. When we show love to other people, we are showing love to God (1 John), so I’d say frying chicken passes the test.

But you know what else is loving? Ordering pizza. Grabbing a couple of two-liters and inviting a few friends over for a movie night. Within the framework of loving God and loving people, there is so much grace. Jesus has given me the freedom to decide if I’d like to fry chicken or order pizza. To become a seamstress or continue to rely on my trusty iron-on patches. To homeschool my children or make an informed decision to send them to a traditional school.

This grace isn’t just for the rookie farm wife; it’s also for you, the nurse, engineer, and teacher. There’s freedom to choose any number of paths as long as you love God and love people. This isn’t easy, but it is simple. And, by the way, it requires a relationship with Jesus to carry out, an ongoing dependence on His strength and guidance. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather rely on Him than try to do everything and be everything.

So do your thing. Release your shoulds. Love God, and love people. Fry chicken. Or order pizza. But if you decide to make fried chicken, call me.

What are your shoulds? How can you walk in the freedom of loving God and loving people today?

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I Heard the Bells

Several years ago I worked as a piano accompanist for a high school choral music program. Between rehearsing with the whole choir, pounding out individual vocal parts, and practicing on my own, I’d play any given song approximately 47.38 times from first run to concert performance. This overexposure endeared some songs to me and caused me to loathe others—sorry, “Seasons of Love,” it’s loathing for you.

One song I came to appreciate through this process was “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” I love this holiday hymn because its lyrics, written by the poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, have a rich historical background and speak to me personally as well, and its music, composed by Jean Baptiste Calkin, beautifully adds emotion to tell a more vivid story.

Read the lyrics of this song, keeping in mind that the tune places emphasis on the second line of each verse and finishes with a sense of resolution by the fourth. (If you need a refresher on the music, listen to this rendition by Echosmith.)

“I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”

I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet the words repeat,

Of peace on earth, goodwill to men

And thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along th’unbroken song

Of peace on earth, goodwill to men

And in despair I bowed my head:

“There is no peace on earth,” I said,

“For hate is strong, and mocks the song

Of peace on earth, goodwill to men”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, goodwill to men”

Till ringing, singing on its way,

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,

Of peace on earth, goodwill to men!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow penned these words in the midst of great heartache in his life. Several years earlier, his wife tragically died in a fire, and not long after that, the Civil War began. Longfellow’s soldier son, Charley, was shot in battle and nearly paralyzed, and it was while nursing him back to health that Henry wrote these lyrics.*

The Christmas bells that so encouraged Longfellow during such a dark season were undoubtedly church bells, and I imagine that hearing them was so comforting to him because they reminded him of the teaching he’d received within the church’s walls, foundational truths that transcended present circumstances.

The litany, “of peace on earth, goodwill to men,” comes from the angels’ pronouncement to the shepherds at the birth of Christ; they were told to fear not and to receive the good news for all people that a Savior was born (Luke 2:8-11). “And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’” (Luke 2:13-14) The birth of a Savior meant peace on earth and good will for everyone, and that has remained the greatest reason for celebrating the Christmas season from Bible times to the Civil War to the present.

Longfellow certainly had reason to bow his head in despair, lose faith in the possibility of peace on earth, and be overwhelmed by the hate he observed in the world. Most of us have found ourselves in a similar spot at one time or another, whether due to the turmoil we’ve seen on the news or the turmoil we’ve experienced personally through broken relationships, loss, and unfulfilled dreams. As implied in the song, it can be tempting to think that God is dead. Or for those like myself who remain convinced that God is alive, it can be even more tempting to believe that He is asleep at the wheel, snoozing on the job. I’m comforted by the same words in which Longfellow found solace:

“I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip—He who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord watches over you—the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm—He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” (Psalm 121, emphasis mine)

This Christmas season, let the music and traditions remind you of some transcendent truth you may have forgotten about—such as the truth that whether in this life or the next, the wrong will fail and the right prevail (2 Corinthians 4:16-18). Even if you’re skeptical about the Bible, read a few chapters and see if they have something to say to your modern life; let its words bring you comfort that’s outside of yourself—of peace on earth, goodwill to men.

In what truth are you finding comfort this Christmas season? Tell me in the comments.

*Biographical info taken from Come Let Us Adore Him by Robert J. Morgan.

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My Life Is Not a Hallmark Movie

I’d like to talk to you about my favorite Hallmark Christmas movie, The Christmas Card. I hesitated to write about Christmas since we have not yet celebrated Thanksgiving, but then I remembered that the Hallmark Channel’s “Countdown to Christmas” movie marathon begins each year on Halloween, so I think I’m in good company. Oh, and I won’t be offended if any of you holiday purists would like to save this article for your December reading.

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The Christmas Card tells the heartwarming story of a soldier stationed in Afghanistan who receives a Christmas card from a small town charity project. The card becomes a lifeline for him and takes him to charming and hospitable Nevada City, California, on his next leave just in time for Christmas. Enter a classic Hallmark Channel love triangle with a predictable juxtaposition: girl must choose between long-time-nice-guy-city-slicker-boyfriend and mysterious-new-yes-ma’am-manly-man. In The Christmas Card, it’s Faith choosing between Paul—a wine broker with bad hair—and Cody—our kindhearted and studly soldier. We all know there’s no contest here.

Several years ago The Christmas Card was serendipitously on TV on Thanksgiving Day, so my family and I watched it. Why was this serendipitous? The character of Paul—yes, the one with the bad hair—and the obviousness that Faith should not choose him gave my family a personification of their feelings about the boyfriend I’d brought home for the holidays. Like Paul, he was a decent guy but a bit disengaged and very different from me. For these reasons and others, that this boyfriend and I were a mismatch was as clear to my family as the Hallmark viewer’s knowledge that the girl should always choose the masculine newcomer. My family told me as much—though they did so gently and expressed confidence in my ability to make a wise choice. I’d already begun to have a few concerns about this boyfriend myself, so my family’s confrontation simply forced me to face them head-on.

Up to this crisis point in my story, I’d been feeling like the heroine in my own Hallmark movie. All the necessary elements were present—holiday traditions, loving family, cozy fireplace, visiting boyfriend. As the reality of the decision before me sank in, one simple fact harshly reminded me that my life was in fact not a Hallmark movie: I had no Cody. While Faith had to choose between Paul and Cody, I had to choose between a decent-though-not-quite-perfect-for-me boyfriend and no boyfriend, a much more difficult choice. I could imagine a man who’d be a better fit for me—thanks, Hallmark—but there was no guy in my life who fit the bill, much less one in my immediate circle, conveniently around for the holidays in case I decided I needed a boyfriend upgrade.

Over the next six weeks I thought and prayed and talked to wise friends, and then I ended my relationship with this boyfriend. I knew it was a risk to forego “Paul” in hopes of finding “Cody” because the real world doesn’t deliver happy endings as frequently or as quickly as Hallmark—but I decided it was worth it. Almost three years later, my risk paid off in the appearance of my Cody—my husband, Greg. He is just as handsome, genuinely goodhearted, and amazing as Cody—and even more so because he is a real person. I’m so thankful that I didn’t allow my immediate desire to have a boyfriend keep me in a mediocre relationship that would have cost me my wonderful husband down the road.

I don’t believe that if we’re simply willing to wait long enough, every circumstance will end happily. Life is complex and messy and hard. However, I do believe that many areas of our lives—relationships, career, spirituality—remain less than what they could be because they go unchallenged. Good enough supplants best. This principle is applicable to every person in every stage of life, but I’m thinking specifically of the girls I’ve mentored over the past years, most of whom are now ages 18 to 25. They are going to college, dating, getting their first “real” jobs, getting married, and moving across the country. I hope that they’ll have the courage to ask hard questions, take risks, refuse to settle, and live with a little ambiguity.

By the way, those who have a relationship with God through Jesus (John 14:6) will receive the ultimate happy ending—heaven (Revelation 21)—as well as numerous earthly blessings (Psalm 31:19), like peace (Galatians 5:22), comfort in hard times (2 Corinthians 1:3-4), and answers to prayer (Luke 18:1-8). God even promises to give wisdom to those who ask Him for it (James 1:5), so we can be confident that we don’t have to navigate difficult decisions alone (Matthew 28:20). Maybe life isn’t a Hallmark movie, but with God it can be even better.

If you haven’t seen The Christmas Card, do yourself a favor, and make time to watch it today!

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Green Grass

There’s something about green grass that speaks my language. I’ve always considered green to be the loveliest of colors and the great outdoors the place I want to be. Green grass has been a golden thread in the story of my life, present in a thousand happy memories. From barefoot backyard exploration as a little girl to laying in the yard stargazing with my high school best friends to cheering at a college flag football game to driving through hilly Ozark back roads in the setting sun to falling in love with my husband on a spring evening while we strolled around his family’s farm—green grass has been there in each moment, providing a backdrop for so many scenes of my life.

Green grass—lush and flourishing—hints at something deeper, that there is life here and not only life but abundant, rich life, health, growth, and possibility. I long for that kind of life, and I’d be willing to bet that you do too. I want the kind of life that is full and fruitful not only for me but also for the people whom my life touches. And though my natural desire is for ease and comfort and material abundance, at the end of the day I’d rather have purpose and meaning, to be rich in relationships and full of what matters. I happen to believe that this abundant life is accessible and not only accessible but also intended for each of us by God and made available to us through Jesus. Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10)

No matter what you believe about God, I imagine you’d agree that at times the concept of an abundant life seems slippery in light of present circumstances. If you’re like me, your current season is a mixed bag of joy and sorrow, fulfillment and discouragement. I got married a little over a year ago and moved back to my home state of Kansas. I love being my husband’s wife and living life with him more than I can put into words. I’m enjoying working a traditional job only part-time, which has allowed me to pursue some dreams I hadn’t made time for in the past. This season also has the potential to be very rich in relationships, as we live close to both of our families and have many wonderful new friends. But I left behind a town I loved dearly, precious friends I’d had for nearly ten years, career and volunteer roles I found fulfilling, and in general a life I thought I just might live forever. So I confess that even among all the hope and possibility of this new season of life, among the hundreds of reasons I have to be grateful, at times I’ve felt a little lost and not a little sad, and I’ve been tempted to believe that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.

I’m no expert on living an abundant life, but I’m confident that it won’t happen if I’m not sure that this—my current reality, place, and people—is the life I want. I’m also convinced that this lush life won’t just happen, like winning the lottery. It must be cultivated, tended, watched, waited on, prayed over, cried over, loved. Neil Barringham said, “The grass is greener where you water it,” and these days I’m working on watering my own grass, cultivating a lush life on my own side of the fence.

This philosophical shift will have endless practical applications, but I believe it starts with an attitude change, the choice to believe that the here and now—with its good, bad, and ugly--is the best life for me because it’s the one He gave me, and He is good. This isn’t simply positive thinking or a refusal to acknowledge difficulty; it’s a belief in something, Someone bigger than myself Who is directing my journey. “'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'” (Jeremiah 29:11) That sounds like green grass to me.

How is your current season a mixed bag? What's a practical way you can water your own grass? Tell me in the comments!

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