When we moved to Texas a couple years ago, we sent our daughter-in-law to tour the house we ultimately ended up purchasing. We didn’t see it in person until a few weeks later, but as soon as she walked in the door with the video on, I knew it was “home.” It checked all the boxes on the “must have” list and even the boxes on the “wish list.” God provided and blessed in an amazing way for us.
There is just one thing I don’t like about my home. It is located smack in the middle of “Turmoil Curve.” Who in the world would name a street in a neighborhood “Turmoil Curve.” Whenever someone asks for my address, I get questions and comments. Yes, I live on Turmoil Curve. Not exactly an ideal street name. Who wants to live in or on Turmoil?
I think we can all agree that our world is in turmoil right now. We are in the middle of (well, prayerfully nearing the end of) the longest government shut down in our history, a political divide in our nation that feels wider than our country itself, wars around the world, increasing crime and cost of living. On a personal level, I’m sure we all have a list of tumultuous areas in our lives: paychecks that don’t quite stretch to the next one, doctor’s appointments and tests that are uncertain, caring for aging parents or our own precious babies who can’t tell us what’s wrong, difficult relationships with a spouse, friend, or co-worker. But if anyone happens to ask, we are “fine.”
God reminded me this week to take a look at my map. Out the back of my home is a beautiful greenbelt where deer come by periodically. There is something deeply spiritual about the deer that make me feel a greater connection to God. I think they are a reminder of the beauty of his creation, even on Turmoil Curve in the west side of San Antonio. And they fill my heart with gratitude to Jesus for his provision for me and my family.
If I back out of my driveway and turn right, I will run into “Peaceful Dell,” and if I back out of my driveway and turn left, I run into “Peaceful Glade.” No matter which way I go on Turmoil Curve, I end up on a peaceful street. When we follow God in the midst of our turmoil, He promises that we will find peace at the end of it.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27, NIV)
Last night my Daughter-in-Love came over with my precious grandbabies while my son worked late. We had dinner and a fun night playing. Toward the end of the evening, two-year-old “Sweets” asked me to play “Ring Around the Rosie” with her. I told her I would sing with her, but I didn’t want to go round and round or fall down because I had a headache. She replied, “Oh, you have a headache? Can I pray for you?” Of course you can pray for me! She came over, took my hand, and said, “Dear Jesus, Babble, babble, babble, babble, babble. In Jesus’ name, Amen”. She looked up at me and said, “Is your headache better? Can we play now?” She was so certain. We played “Ring Around the Rosie.”
It was the sweetest thing and made me teary-eyed. I didn’t understand a word she said. The funny thing is, “Sweets” is very verbal and never babbles. Romans 8:26-27 says, “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.” (NIV) Isn’t it amazing that the God of the Universe knew exactly what she was saying and the intent of her heart through the Holy Spirit? She prayed in her own little prayer language, and God knew what she said. Incredible.
Parents and grandparents, it’s never too early to begin teaching your babies to pray. Pray before meals and bedtime, but pray at other times as well. And pray when you don’t know how God’s going to answer. One night when my kids were little, Randy and my dad were trying to fix my car in the garage downstairs and were having trouble. I gathered the kids and my mom and said, “Let’s pray for the car.” As soon as we said “Amen,” we heard the engine roar to life! The kids (and adults) were so excited! Another time, we took our “new to us” trailer out for a weekend at a nearby campground with my parents. We were close enough to home that my dad and Randy were both working during the day. As is typical in Washington State, it started to pour down rain, and we quickly discovered a leak in the roof of the trailer. This was before the time of cell phones, so we couldn’t call to let the guys know that we had a leak. So, we prayed together for the rain to stop. Well, the rain didn’t stop, but soon after, my dad came driving up on his lunch break with a tarp. Not the expected answer, but an answer nonetheless!
There were countless other times where our prayers were not answered as quickly or in the way that we had hoped. But we learned together to trust God with the outcome. And now we continue to teach the next generation about the goodness and sovereignty of God. What an amazing thing. If you haven’t started praying with your kids yet, don’t miss out on the opportunity to watch God show up in awesome ways and see your kids learn about the goodness of God.
And thank you, “Sweets”, for praying for my headache last night. I feel better.
Some of you may see the title of this post and decide to stop reading. But let me be clear….I don’t do political posts. Maybe I should, but that’s not my calling. I hate confrontation and will pretty much do whatever I can to avoid it in any way, shape or form.
As a Christ follower, it has been heart-breaking, scary, prophetic, and eye-opening, even shocking, to experience the assassination of Charlie Kirk. Jesus told us in John 15, verses 18-25, that the world would hate us, just as it hated him. I have had people in my life hate me for various reasons. I don’t like it, even a little bit. Of course we want to be liked, even loved, by everyone. But let me tell you, being loved by Jesus is enough. It’s more than enough; it is amazing! Even if everyone I knew were to suddenly hate me, the love of Jesus would still be enough. It would be sad here in this world, but still enough that I would get to be with Jesus and love by Him for eternity.
These past two weeks since Charlie’s assassination have drawn me to Jesus. My love for Jesus has been strengthened by the stories I have heard. More than anything though, Charlie showed me that confrontation isn’t a bad thing. He lived his life to meet people where they were and help them see Jesus. Maybe I need to be more willing, bolder, and more courageous to speak Jesus to strangers around me.
Dear Jesus, help me be like Charlie in this world. But more than that, I want to be like YOU. I want to love like you do and talk like you do. And thank you for Phil Wickham’s new album that has put so many of my thoughts and feelings into songs that I can sing to you.
Thank you, Charlie, for a legacy that will live on and for inspiring me to live more like Jesus.
January 22, 1982, late at night in the Cascade Mountains near Cle Elum, Washington, God found me. I wasn’t lost in the sense that no one knew where I was. I was lost in a religion that was what I did on Sunday, but God found me and drew me into a relationship that changed the course of my life.
I grew up in a beautiful Christian home with a family who loved me. As a child, my grandma, who so fondly called me “Jenny Wren”, told me that God had something special for me. She didn’t know what it was specifically, just that God would use me in ministry in some capacity in my life. I always felt important & valued when she told me that.
Sitting in my home far from Washington State this morning, what are my thoughts as I ponder the night that changed my life forty-three years ago?
I can still remember the incredible sense of peace that come over me in that moment. The worship leader at the youth retreat challenged us to think about all that God had done for us as we walked back to our cabins that night. In the middle of a bunch of loud and crazy students, I walked through the snowfall talking to God. It was just me and Him. Every time it snows (like it did in San Antonio this week, just for me), I am reminded of the incredible sense of peace that comes from knowing that I am loved, chosen, and known by God. He sees me every day, even the ones when I forget to see Him.
Now that I am a grandma, I often remember the role that my grandma played in my life. She loved Jesus, and her words spoke life to me. I think of my precious grandbabies and pray that my words will speak life to them, too. But not only my words, Lord Jesus. May my actions speak louder than my words. Whenever I change a diaper, make a peanut butter sandwich, sit on the floor to play, snuggle on the couch with a book, or giggle because that’s what we do, may my grandbabies feel, know and understand the love of Jesus.
Whether you are a parent or grandparent, aunt or uncle, youth leader, teacher, or family friend of a child or teenager, don’t underestimate the power of your words. They can change a day, a year, a lifetime. They might even change the world.
I am grateful for this life I live and have lived. Thank you, Jesus, for finding that lost girl walking through the snowfall and looking for You. I needed to be found by You.
In August 2005, we spent a weekend camping at MacDonald Park in Carnation, Washington, where we played croquet, sat around the campfire, and watched the devastation of Hurricane Katrina on the tv in our trailer. Our daughter, Kimberly, who was 11 at the time, was riveted to the coverage and kept saying, “Someone should help those people.” We have spent the last 19 years talking about helping people in crisis while she’s deployed to Corpus Christi, Houston, Mississippi, and Puerto Rico for hurricane responses and to various wildfires in California. Her full-time job with the Red Cross in Orange County, California keeps her in the midst of disaster responses. As her mom, I have followed along and talked many hours of crisis response and disaster preparedness. I couldn’t help becoming passionate about it right along with her. It is a calling that I am proud to share with my daughter.
In April 2022, I had the privilege to travel to Poland to help Ukrainian refugees in the midst of the Russian attack on Ukraine. This trip solidified the desire in my heart to respond to people in crisis. Even more important than the physical help is the spiritual first aid that people need. It is incredibly fulfilling to pray with someone who is hurting and to offer a hug in the name of Jesus.
After moving to San Antonio, Texas last year and becoming a part of Community Bible Church, I was thrilled to discover that they had a disaster response team. Last weekend was my first deployment with the team to Houston to help with the clean up after Hurricane Beryl. It was an amazing time with my team of five as we took down trees and removed debris. If you have ever been to Houston, or any part of Texas for that matter, you will probably be familiar with the biggest hurdle in doing outdoor work of any kind: HUMIDITY! It was hot and humid! To say I sweat would be an understatement.
On our second day of clearing trees, I was sitting in the shade, dumping water over my head to cool off. As I watched my teammates work in the hot sun, satan whispered in my head, “You aren’t carrying your weight.” I will take this moment to confess that satan has whispered and yelled a multitude of lies in my head for most of my life, and unfortunately, it was in direct conflict with what God says to and about me. For most of my life, that voice was the loudest and got my attention one hundred percent of the time. It is too easy to give in and allow that voice to convince me that it speaks truth. It does not take any faith or work to believe that voice. The feelings of condemnation and shame entered my head right along with the words, and they took root in my heart and mind.
My journey toward emotional healing began when I lost my best friend in the midst of accusations, misunderstanding and hurtful words. My broken heart sought the comfort of the Lord and His truth about me. God sang to me through Lauren Daigle’s “You Say” song in the middle of the wilderness. I finally began to embrace who God says I am instead of those words of accusation that satan yells at me in a moment of weakness. I am choosing to believe what God says.
So right there in the backyard of a Houston family last weekend, I blocked out the enemy’s voice and listened for my Father’s voice. My father answered the enemy, “It’s not your weight to carry my beloved Jennifer. I called you here with a team to do what you can to show My love to these people in the aftermath of the hurricane. The weight is mine to carry. I’ve got it. I am not comparing you to anyone else. All I want from you is your willingness to come and be a part of what I am doing here. I do not judge based on your ability or your stamina. I don’t care about your physical capacity or limitations. I am pleased with you.”
It is such a sweet victory when you listen for your Father’s voice.
Like many of us, I have been thinking about my Dad this week as Father’s Day approaches. I was one of the lucky kids who had a great dad, so I thought I would share a few things my dad taught me.
My dad taught me the value of stability. When my dad was a kid, his dad worked construction jobs which meant they moved from job to job. My dad rarely was at a school for more than a year at a time. While I think he learned some valuable lessons from that lifestyle (like how to make friends and talk to anyone), he never wanted that for his kids. My parents bought a house in Duvall, Washington when my older brother was a baby. It was the only house I ever lived in until I went away to college. When they sold it to move to Arizona last year, they had 56 years of “collections” to sort through. (I won’t mention that my brother and I nicknamed dad “Colonel Junk” while cleaning out the garage. And obviously, I learned everything I needed to know about humor from my dad!)
Along with stability, I learned the value of hard work from my dad. He retired from his job with the City of Seattle after 41 years. He was the Headworks Foreman at the Tolt Dam, which supplied a large portion of the drinking water in the Seattle area. My “Dad’s water” tasted better than any other. Since we didn’t swear, drink, or smoke in our home, I always thought it was funny to make jokes about my dad’s “dam job.” My junior and senior high school was downstream from the dam so we had occasional dam evacuation drills. My participation was somewhat begrudging and smug, convinced that nothing would happen to the dam on my dad’s watch!
When my dad was 18, he was out in the sand dunes of Moses Lake, Washington, doing something with chemicals that blew up in his hands. My uncles were the first heroes of the story, keeping him alive while getting him to the hospital. He was then airlifted to a hospital in Spokane for amputation of both hands, where the second hero entered the story. A young doctor decided to take a long shot and try to save his hands rather than amputate them. His actions paid off, and my dad still has both of his hands. I wish I could thank that doctor! However, the true hero of the story is my dad. He never allowed titles like “disabled” or “handicapped” stick to him. He worked as if his hands were like anyone else’s, but they weren’t. The lack of feeling and mobility certainly could have been an excuse not to work hard, but he never complained. (I also learned not to do anything stupid with chemicals, but I probably shouldn’t say “stupid” in a post honoring my dad!)
The value of serving in the church and community was instilled in me by my dad. For over 25 years, he was a volunteer first responder and firefighter for King County District 45, which served the city of Duvall. He also volunteered at our church as an audio technician. Both of these positions required special training, a commitment of time, and the ability to handle situations with calmness and poise.
While serving and working, my dad learned a lot about many things. Anyone in my family will tell you that you can hear stories about jet engines, coils, ham radios, electricity, stars and galaxies, construction machines, cars, or random tools at any time. (And they are all laughing in agreement right now!) He is probably one of the smartest people I know, but he is also one of the humblest people I know. He will share the information in a way that is not meant to make him seem smarter than everyone in the room; it is quite the opposite. He makes everyone else feel like the smartest in the room, never taking credit for what he knows or has done. I admire that he can talk to anyone about anything; I did not get that extroverted ability from him.
As a teenage girl, I wanted my ears pierced, but my dad’s reply was always, “If you were meant to have holes in your ears, you’d be born with them.” Finally, when I was 16, he relented and let me get my ears pierced. After many years of searching for an earring that didn’t irritate my ears and cause infections, I let the holes close back up. Who knew that he was right all along?! I suppose it would be the same with the tattoo I want to get. I probably should consider that the ink would cause skin irritations and infections and just abandon the notion altogether!
Even though he was busy, he always made time for us. Trips to the swimming pool, camping trips, star gazing, and random drives were the norm, but my favorite time of the day was “party time.” Every night before bed, we had a party. Whatever the snack, it was always a party! I continue to have a party every night to this day! Such a fun tradition.
I know that many of you had difficult relationships with your dads or didn’t know your dad. I’m sorry that you missed out on that aspect of your childhood. And I know that relating to God as our “Heavenly Father” isn’t easy for some of you. Regardless of how good or bad our earthly fathers are, none compare to our Father God. He is the only perfect Father. My prayer for you today is that you can celebrate Father’s Day this year because we have a good Father in Heaven who loves you more than your earthly father ever can.
Oh, and one more thing. I learned a cheesy grin and the word “Daddy” could melt his heart and get just about anything I wanted.
I love you, Dad. Thanks for being a great dad. And I love you, Father God. You have blessed me beyond words and I am grateful.
A couple months ago, my son, Nick, got in a car accident on his way home from work. He wasn’t hurt but his older car was totalled. We spent a few weeks sharing my car when he needed it. On Mother’s Day weekend, I had an idea that I wanted to share with him and his wife, SaraJane. As we sat down at dinner, I wondered how to bring up my idea and finally decided to just say it.
“I’ve been thinking about your car situation, and I think we should all commit to praying every day for God to provide a car for you. I think we should be very specific in what we ask for.” After talking about the details, we all agreed that we would pray everyday for God to provide a reliable car that Nick could drive to and from work for $6000 total. They said they were hoping to spend between 6k and 7k, but we decided to be more specific. If you have looked at used cars lately, you know that a reliable car for $6k out the door is nearly impossible. Ah…but God.
A couple of weeks passed, and we all prayed. We didn’t talk much about the car search during that time. When I asked Nick about it, he said he hadn’t really been looking that much. Just waiting. Meanwhile, in addition to the specific prayers, I was asking God to make it very obvious to the kids that He was working and providing.
Memorial Day weekend came, and Nick got an email from a dealer that they had a car he might be interested in. So they drove up to take a look. When they arrived, the car had sold. The salesman showed them a few other cars. One was a 2016 Hyundai Accent. The saleman started the car and discovered that someone had mistyped the mileage on the information sheet. The 80k difference on the mileage would have been about $3000 more in the selling price. However, the salesman said they would honor the price they had listed.
After a test drive, they decided that this was the car God was leading them to purchase. They sat down at the table to work out the deal. With taxes, license and fees, it came out a little more than they wanted to spend, so Nick and SJ asked if they could get the price down to $6800 total. The salesman left and came back to tell them we’ll give it to you for $6500. When have you ever heard of a salesman coming back with a LOWER price than you asked for? SaraJane was so excited, she asked the salesman, “Do you believe in God? Because this is exactly what we have been praying for!”
More than that, it was a lesson to me. My days of being “mom” every day have come and gone. I’m on to being grandma and enjoying all that a “Grammy” gets to do and be. But, being a spiritual leader and example to my kids and grandkids does not end when adulthood begins. It is never too late or too early to show your kids, grandkids, great grandkids, neighbors, parents, friends, co-workers, and car salesmen the power of a prayer.
God is so good to us. Don’t forget to bring your needs boldly to the throne of grace today. He cares. He hears. He answers.
A couple years ago, I heard several people refer to their “word for the year.” I thought “Hmm…that’s odd. I have never had a word for the year. I wonder how you choose that?” Then, one morning, I read a verse and the word “change” popped into my head. Isaiah 43:19 says: “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland” (NIV, Biblica Inc. 1973). I spent that year, and probably the one following, watching and waiting for the new things God was doing in my life. It was the year I started my master’s program at Liberty University Online. God really did make that verse come to life for me.
This year we started the year with 21 days of prayer and fasting. At one of the prayer meetings at church, the pastor had us take some time to open our Bibles and ask God to give us a word for the year. I didn’t think it would work like that, but honestly, God did give me a word in that moment: JOY. Psalm 97:11 says, “Light shines on the righteous and joy on the upright in heart” (NIV, Biblica Inc. 1973).
The first thing that caught my attention in that moment is “upright.” If you know any German, then you might know that my last name means “upright” in German. In 2011, my husband, my kids and I choose the word “upright” as our family word, along with Titus 2:12 as our family verse, which says, “It (the grace of God) teaches us to say ‘No’ to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age” (NIV, Biblica Inc. 1973). It was an amazing way to keep each other accountable to living up to our name.
But, in 2024, joy on the upright in heart? I have lived many years trying to be “upright”, but I can say that joy has been an unknown for me. As I have battled depression for most of my life, I don’t think I understand joy. But, I am trusting God to show me true joy this year, even in the midst of heavy-heartedness.
Here we are, five months into 2024, and I am just finishing the blog I started in January. It has been a busy season, but God is good. I have learned that joy is a choice. In many years of marriage ministry, I have told married couples that love is a choice. You may not feel like you love your spouse, but choose to act as if you did. The feeling will follow the action. And then I added forgiveness as a choice. It is hard to forget the hurtful words or actions of a spouse or friend, but every time I remember those things, I choose to forgive again. Eventually it gets easier to remember that I have chosen to forgive. So on the days when I feel sad, upset or heavy hearted, I am trying to remember to choose joy. I’m going to laugh and be silly with my granddaughter, even if my heart is not completely in it. And at the end of the day, I can look back and see the joy in my life.
It is a very slow process, but I am trusting that God is helping me choose joy every day, even when I don’t feel like it.
Thank you, God, that you are helping me choose YOU every single day of my life.
I woke up this morning and let myself linger in bed a bit longer instead of jumping up to tackle my mile long “to do” list for today. I thought to myself, “I haven’t really felt God this week.” The first response that popped into my mind was “Why hasn’t God been present?” And then I had to chuckle to myself. I just wrote a blog post last week about being Mary in this season of Merry. Of course the enemy is going to distract me from following my own words with a sense of apathy or one of failure. Either way, I decide I shouldn’t write what I can’t do myself, so I abandon the thought of a blog altogether. Nope. I’m not giving up that easily, satan!
And then I started thinking about feelings. Feelings are fickle and not dependable. How many times have I told married couples that “Love is not a feeling. It is a choice!”? If I only love my husband when I feel it, then I would be a terrible wife. When I am deep in thought with my “other job” working on spreadsheets and reconciling accounts, I don’t “feel” love for my husband. I choose to love him, whether I feel like it or not; whether I am thinking about him or not.
Forgiveness isn’t a feeling either; it is a choice I make every time I remember the offense that I thought I forgave long ago. I have to choose to forget it and to think about something else. Isaiah 43:25 says, “I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more” (NIV). The God of the Universe, who knows everything, has not forgotten my sins. How could an omniscient God forget anything? He does not forget; he chooses not to remember.
So, if I am not “feeling” God today, it isn’t because He has left or changed. I need to choose to remember that God will never leave me or forsake me (Hebrews 13:5, NIV). I am going to turn on some worship music and look for God in my day. He’s here. He’ll show me what I have been missing this week. It might be through a deer in my backyard, a heart-shaped rock or leaf, my granddaughter’s belly laugh, or a beautiful sunset. It might be a million little things that He does to show me His love for me throughout the day. And in the end, it might be a feeling of love. But if not, I know I am loved and not forgotten.
I have a few memories of special gifts received at Christmas. My brother and I woke up one Christmas morning to brand new Schwinn bikes: mine a shiny red five-speed and his a special edition red, white, and blue ten-speed. And one year I received a brown leather Thompson Chain Reference Bible (“Christmas 1982” is written inside the front cover). It is a gift I still use on a regular basis! But the best gift was an engagement ring in 1988. Nothing has surpassed the joy of that Christmas gift! It wasn’t an elaborate proposal; it didn’t need to be. It was simply a beautiful ring tied to the zipper of a Seattle Pacific University sweatshirt.
But my favorite memories of the season are not of gifts but rather the time spent with the givers and receivers of gifts. The engagement ring and wedding band is still on my finger thirty-five Christmases later, but the ring is only a symbol of the relationship. There are too many beautiful Christmas memories with my husband to even begin to pick a favorite.
Another of my favorite Christmas memories was the tradition of Christmas shopping and dinner with my dad. He never knew what to get for my mom, so he’d take me with him to help pick out her gifts. Actually, he always had a pretty good idea, and I think he could have done it by himself. But that would not have been nearly as much fun as our date night in the middle of a busy season. It was a night he took me to dinner and talked about life. My dad always has a story to tell or a bit of random information about how something works, but these nights were different. It was kind of like the yearly checkup to make sure everything was good.
At the same time, I am old enough to know that not all Christmas seasons are filled with fond memories. Like the year a chimney fire got away and burned a portion of my grandparents’ house on Christmas morning. I still remember watching the flames shoot up through the roof while crying with my family. But by far the worst Christmas was when my grandma passed away on Christmas Eve. We still had Christmas for the little kids, but no one felt like celebrating that year.
Why am I sharing this? (Sorry, mom, I know I made you cry.) I think it is important that we learn from Mary on the night Jesus was born. After giving birth in the stable, away from home, and a visit from smelly shepherds she didn’t know, the Bible says Mary “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19, NIV). In the hustle and bustle of trying to learn to nurse a newborn and figure out what to use for a diaper, Luke tells us that Mary valued and appreciated the moment. She took time to reflect on and consider the significance of all that had happened.
What about us? Are we taking the time to appreciate the moments we spend with our loved ones? Don’t get so caught up in all the things of Christmas that we miss the “being” of Christmas. The decor around us touting the “love,” “joy,” “peace,” and “hope” of Christmas are not feelings. They are choices to stop and experience them.
Let’s have a Mary Christmas this year and choose to treasure the things we already have in this season of Merry Christmas.
Jennifer Aufrecht 