Faith Over Fear

I’ve seen the statement, “Faith over Fear” mentioned quite a few times on social media.

When I see it, I take a deep breath in. Then exhale exhaustion.

Do they know what that entails?

I walk on the edge of faith a lot of days. I put one foot in front of the other, working hard to stay atop the faithful mountain.

But the truth is: if I side step, I’m falling into the abyss of fear, doubt, and despair.

Having faith means keeping an eternal perspective.

Having faith means searching for hope.

Having faith means understanding that come what may, we’re able to say, “Thy will be done.”

The importance is where our faith is grounded.

Do people have faith that their family will be protected?

Do people have faith that their leaders know what to do?

Or do people have faith centered on Christ and that no matter what happens, they’ll be able to close their mortal eyes and open with eternal ones.

In my experience, the first two have failed. And the third is essential but isn’t easy. It’s continual work.

But on most days I’m able to steady myself on the edge and cling onto faith.

Today, I’m choosing faith.

When There’s So Much Loss

The grandsons carrying Dorothy.


So much loss.

After we received the call about the death of my mother-in-law, Dorothy, I curled up in bed, crying.

I thought, “How will we move forward? How do we keep going? It’s too hard. Life’s too painful.”

As my thought was concluding I got an immediate impression.

“You’re not alone. You’ve done this. You weren’t alone then and I won’t leave you now.”

These last two years have felt heavy, hard, and impossible.

But as a family we’ve done the impossible with help from family, friends, and Him.

Faith. That’s been the key for me.

We’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other because we believe we’re going to see these loved ones again.

I’ll take a deep breath and hugs my boys through their sorrow because I believe we’re building a family that’ll last into forever.

I’ll cling to my husband as we weather yet another storm because I love him and I have faith that there’s something more for us than this life.

Faith isn’t easy. In fact it can be downright hard.

But we’ve experienced loss before so we know the work it’s going to require.

And we know we’re not alone.

So we’ll keep trusting. Keep believing.

We’ll keep hoping.

Finding Hope

My hope. My heart. My lovie dovie.

November, December, and January are hard months to get through since Rory’s passing.

But last December was extra painful with the unexpected death of my brother-in-law, Saul.

I haven’t posted on my blog.

I have drafts but nothing published.

Here’s my problem: I want everything I write to end with hope.

Life is hard, but there’s still hope.

Emotions are high, but they won’t always be.

January feels never ending, but it will, in fact, end within ten days.

But I haven’t felt very hopeful.

I’ve felt empty.


And tired.

On the flip side:

I haven’t felt alone.

I’ve had enough energy to accomplish everything I needed to and wanted to accomplish. Even when sleep evaded me.

And I’ve been inspired. I sent off a rewrite to my agent this month. I felt inspired daily on how to help my boys and on what I need to do.

These feelings contradict the ones I listed first. They seem incapable of coexisting.

But they have.

And that’s Grace.

That’s the hope I’ve been struggling to find.

As I do everything I can, Christ lifts, inspires, and carries me through the rest.

As I find my way through the myriad of emotions that resurfaced last month, He’s guiding me and giving me room to recover.

As I feel broken, He’s making me whole.

And I’m not done yet. Two more weeks until her birthday.

I can do this.

Because of Him.

Promised Blessings

As a family we were reading Romans 8 today.

A verse stuck out to me. Which was already highlighted so must have stuck out to me before.

Verse 18:

“For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”

What an amazing promise!

The minutes since Rory’s death have been painful.

The days of missing her feel so long.

The years feel overwhelming.

Decades, unfathomable.

Is all of this worth it? Was Paul right that our sufferings will not even compare to the glory we’ll have in the next life?

That’s the hope.

That’s where faith comes in.

Faith that she still lives.

Faith that she’s happy.

Faith that she’s with Jesus Christ.

Faith that we’ll be together again.

Faith that the second I die Rory will be running into my arms.

I day dream about that moment.

Yearn for it.

I don’t know that there is a greater promised blessing than that for me.

My girl. In my arms. Never to be parted again.

Blaming God

I was talking to my son the other day. He told me how he felt guilty about Rory’s death. That he should have done more.

Then he expressed that he wanted to be angry at God and blame Him for Rory’s death.

I said, “Do it. Blame Him for a while.”

Heavenly Father didn’t say only come to me when you’re happy.

Only pray to me when you’re in a good place.

Only seek me out when you have all the answers.


He said come to me for comfort.

Pray to me when you’re struggling.

Seek me when you have questions.

I believe our Heavenly Father would love to take that blame and guilt away from my son. God would be happy to hold that for him until he’s able to forgive himself and heal as much as he can.

God’s love is unconditional.

That love will survive the anger we feel when we’re thrown into things we don’t understand. When we’re just barely getting by.

That love will be there when we find happy again.

I think He wants to be there for us through all of it.

Ultimately, my son doesn’t feel like he can blame God.

After all, He’s been where we’re at.

He watched His Son die.