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(....and before anything else ) I heard this quip from my aunt Kari back in high school and it has stuck with me all these years (because I have found it to be deeply convicting). The phrase originated with a phone with a cord in mind, as she would be tempted to call a friend before spending time with the Lord or before going to God with a question or need. How the temptations and distractions have multiplied since then! Here we live in this world of technology with endless resources at our fingertips - friends, experts, influencers, family, mentors, the nurse line…. the list goes on and on. And all the while, as we research and scroll and worry and send messages, the Voice that truly matters has become our last resort. Consulting Jesus lies at the bottom of a long to-do list as we navigate the small and large decisions we face daily. And usually (I’ll speak for myself) when I do turn to prayer, it looks like presenting a laundry list of requests and does not include listening for a response. It’s a one-sided conversation, a monologue performed by me 😉 And so, I’m asking Jesus to remind me to consult Him first in all things (and to help me to do this! I need His help to divert from my default and come to Him instead). After all, He is the One who knows me and my children better than anyone else. He has all wisdom and insight into my marriage, my friendships, my wants and needs, and my heart. As we go about our days and find ourselves in need of help of any kind, may we be found first on our knees before the God who speaks, trusting His voice above any other.

Where did I put it? I rushed out the door to my waiting (wailing) kids after looking for my phone charger for the third time. I knew I had picked it up intending to bring it in the car with me…but what had I done with it? I had 22% battery remaining, and I hoped it would be enough to get me where I needed to go. I had snacks for the kids so I figured everything would probably be okay. I sped to my two Facebook marketplace pickups, cautiously eyeing my phone battery as it gave me the 20% heads up and then the dreaded 10% warning. I was distracted, worried about losing access to my Google maps if my phone died because I’m directionally challenged. I hastily flew past a few turns, sped through a few yellowish (red) lights, and shushed my kids to no end because I felt overwhelmed by the rain pelting the windshield. Finally, we arrived at our last destination, the community center play place, with 3% phone battery left. The kids were ecstatic. I was exhausted. I began climbing with them when I felt something bulging in my pocket: my phone charger. I couldn’t believe it! It had been there the whole time - easily accessible and glaringly obvious. It was the thing that would’ve made all the difference in my mood, my pace of life, my mindset, my sense of peace, my focus. It would’ve changed everything. And it struck me: isn’t that how I live my life? If I am the phone (with a rapidly draining battery) and I have this power cord in my pocket (the Word & prayer) and it will help me connect me to the power source (Jesus: the Sustainer, Satisfier, Savior, Supplier of every need)...why do I not reach for it? It’s RIGHT THERE: in my pocket, on my coffee table, next to my bed…and yet, I remain searching and stressed, existing as if I don’t have a way to connect to the Source of all things. Instead of reaching for His Word and His hand, I am frantically reaching for a snack, social media, a podcast - ANYTHING to distract me and fill me and numb me and direct me…when the answer has been right there all along. I’ve been convicted this month: the Word and prayer are my lifelines. They are what will tether me to Jesus and allow me to hear from Him. So, why do I always resist? Why do I always forget? Why am I always reaching for that which will never fill me? After the play place, I reached into my pocket and pulled out that cord, plugging it into the place where it was meant to be the whole time: the power outlet. And the phone comes to life again - like me when I’m connected to Jesus.

“For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd…” Revelation 7:17 Easter morning found me sighing as I discovered a stain on my “nice” coat on our way to church. We were barely healthy after a bout of strep that kept us homebound for the week, watching the flurries swirl outside on the first week of “spring” (which we all know is still basically winter in Minnesota ☃️). As the day continued, my girls ripped their brand new tights, I spilled tea all over my dress, and there was snow half-covering the muddy paths as I walked in the afternoon. Easter grass graced our entire living room floor, and we ran out of milk 😂. Even as we declare “He is risen,” we experience the tension between Easter Sunday and eternity where the truth of Jesus’ victory does not always feel tangible. We exist in this gap: the now but not yet. Jesus is risen, yet life is not always all that we imagine it will be. These days with little children can feel long and isolating. We sometimes have to walk through seasons in the valley of the shadow of death. We experience brokenness in our motherhood journeys from sick kids to chronic pain, marital strife and expectations gone unmet. The land of “now but not yet” can feel like a difficult pasture to dwell in as we await our future hope: Jesus’ return. We read in Revelation about the “yet” that lies just beyond us. John shares his beautiful vision of a great multitude in heaven “from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb” (Revelation 7:9). They are face down before the throne, worshiping day and night, and this is the promise that is theirs forever: “...he who sits on the throne will shelter them with his presence. ‘Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat down on them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; ‘he will lead them to springs of living water.’ ‘And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes’” (Revelation 7:15-17). Those who trust in the Lamb are forever sheltered, safe, satisfied, sustained, seen, and shepherded. I hear echoes of Psalm 23 in this passage as God’s people are cared for in every way possible and given the presence of the Lamb, their Good Shepherd, forever. This Good Shepherd came as a sheep (making himself like us), suffered like a Lamb (the weakest of the flock) - and rose again victorious. Jesus fulfilled the divine role described throughout Scripture, and He has become our Forever Shepherd. But how do we respond to this as we mother in the now but not yet? As we live victorious in one sense, anticipating all that is to come, and yet struggling along as sheep trying to shepherd our young in the brokenness of this world? 1. We grieve what is not, admitting that this journey is difficult. Our current reality does not align with this passage in Revelation 7. We must acknowledge the brokenness that we experience, accepting that this life will not meet all of our expectations and hopes. Otherwise, we will be driven to frustration and bitterness. We present our disappointment to Jesus, the Good Shepherd who cares for us. (I often forget that Jesus Himself told us we would have trouble in this world! See John 16:33.) And as our children grow and we process the brokenness of the world with them, we remind them, “This is not how things were meant to be; the Good Shepherd will make all things right in the end!” 2. We find the good in the here and now. In the “not yet,” there is still much to be grateful for. We are called to be people of JOY and gratitude, not grumbling (Philippians 4:4). Paul encourages us to be people “overflowing with thankfulness” in Colossians 2:7. We must learn from our children the art of rejoicing - I find that they are gifted at finding joy in the littlest of things as they discover the beauty of this world that we have sometimes grown numb to. The Good Shepherd died to give us “life to the full” - and though this does involve sorrow in the here and now, it also includes great joy (John 10:10). 3. We trust the Forever Shepherd instead of ourselves. This verse struck me a few weeks ago: “This is the fate of those who trust in themselves…they are like sheep and are destined to die; death will be their shepherd” (Psalm 49:13-14). The temptation to trust ourselves is real: to rely on our own knowledge, productivity and abilities in every area of life. To trust that we know what is best for our children. But we must trust Jesus instead, allowing Him to shepherd us and our children and clinging to Him at all costs. We must let ourselves be led and cared for by Him instead of living in self-sufficiency. Dependence on Jesus is our response to living in the now but not yet. We let the disappointments and depression and decisions and doubt drive us to our knees at the throne of the Lamb, our Good Shepherd who reigns forever. We have this opportunity as moms to represent an ever so blurry image of the Good Shepherd to our children (and we must follow Him as closely as possible so that we can represent Him well). As we lean into Him, may we lead our children with gentleness just as He leads us and carries our children close to His heart. May we pursue our children persistently and lovingly, just as the Good Shepherd chases us down. May we follow the Good Shepherd’s voice and teach our children to listen to His voice as well - through the Word and the whispers of His Spirit. May we lay ourselves down for them, hour after hour, making sacrifices in a manner worthy of the Good Shepherd and His immense sacrifice. And through all these things, by His grace, may we give our children a glimpse of the Good Shepherd through our mothering. Finally, may we (and our children!) one day be found among the multitudes of those worshiping the Lamb that we might rest in the perfect care of our Forever Shepherd. I pray along with David: Lord, “be [our] shepherd and carry [us] forever” (Psalm 28:8-9)!

“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (John 10:11). There’s a couple in our community who lost their precious baby girl when she was only weeks old. They knew this was likely; their daughter’s rare heart condition was discovered in utero, and the odds were against her. These parents prayed and consulted medical professionals and ultimately decided that the mom would have a C-section in the children’s hospital in order to give their daughter her best shot at life. If anything went wrong with the C-section, the mom would have to be wheeled to another area of the hospital to be operated on - there was a chance she could die. She felt God’s peace about this, believing that this was the way He wanted things to be done. This mom risked her life in exchange for the slight possibility that her baby might live. I am reminded of the Good Shepherd as I consider this couple’s story: “The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep” (John 10:11). Our Good Shepherd, Jesus, sent Himself on our behalf. He gave up everything sacrificially and willingly: Jesus declares in John 10:18, “No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.” He did not forsake His flock but rather protected them, paying the highest cost in order to do so. W. Phillip Keller puts it this way in A Shepherd’s Look at Psalm 23: “The laid-down life, the poured-out blood were the supreme symbols of total selflessness. This was love. This was God. This was divinity in action, delivering men from their own utter selfishness, their own stupidity, their own suicidal instincts as lost sheep unable to help themselves” (98-99). On a much smaller scale, we know what it is to sacrifice in motherhood. Many of us have shared our bodies for a time, carrying and sustaining life within our wombs. We have shed blood, sweat, and tears - literally. We have been denied sleep, offered our time on the altar, and given up dreams for the sake of our children. We have forgone indulgences, but also necessities, because we love these little ones that the Father has entrusted to our care. And I would like to tell you that I make all of these sacrifices willingly, lovingly, and humbly (just as Jesus did, although my sacrifices are microscopic compared to His). But many times, I struggle to sacrifice well. I swallow the sacrifices of my season begrudgingly, with grumbling and bitterness bubbling to the surface of my heart. The sacrifices of motherhood present us with an opportunity: we can become bitter moms or better ones. We can be sucked into selfishness or to lean into the sufficiency of the Good Shepherd as we make the sacrifices required of us. And however big or small our sacrifices are, they offer us an opportunity to mirror the sacrifice of the Good Shepherd to our children, laying down our lives for them. It’s like Justin Whitmel Earley puts it in Habits of the Household (currently one of my favorite parenting books): “...as Jesus took the pain so that we don’t have to, so we take the pain so our children don’t have to. The story of the gospel is not just our greatest hope in life and death, it is also the best paradigm for parenting. We don’t sacrifice our kids’ formation so that we can have an easier life. We sacrifice the ease of our life so that our kids can have biblical formation” (98). (this quote was in the context of a screen time conversation: are we willing to minimize screen time in our homes, even though it will cost us time, energy, breaks, etc.?) I so often feel frustrated with the sacrifices required of me because I am selfish and I don’t want to “take the pain” for my kids. In the cravings of my flesh, I want my life and motherhood journey to be as easy as possible. But we must look at the Good Shepherd and remind ourselves: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). Jesus is calling us to lay down ourselves for these little “friends” that He has placed in our homes. He is calling us to lay down our comfort and desires out of love, sacrificing ourselves to disciple our children and point them to Jesus (and in the process, we will be formed and into His image and come to know Him more as well). Preceding John 10:11 (“The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”) comes this beautiful gem of a verse: “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). Jesus’ sacrifice was an undeserved exchange: His life traded for ours, so that we could experience life TO THE FULL. May the Good Shepherd’s sacrifice not be wasted on us: may we remember all that He gave on our behalf, and may this move us to make the sacrifices of motherhood in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ (Philippians 1:27). And may you experience the life abundant that Jesus wants to give you this week!

“He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” John 10:3-5 Pink eye was circulating our house a couple of weeks ago (that was after the colds and before the stomach bug 😂), and Eden woke one night screaming because her eye was stuck shut. Blake rushed into the pitch black room to calm her: “Eden, it’s okay honey.” And immediately, she was quiet and comforted. Even though she couldn’t see Blake, the sound of his voice changed everything instantly. And so it is with our Good Shepherd: we know He is near because He speaks to us. He leads us by his voice, calling each of us by name. (I imagine Him calling each of us by a nickname, the one He has chosen especially for us.) And once He has called us to Himself, He goes before us, leading the way with His voice so that we know where to go next. But here’s the question: Do we know His voice when we hear it? Are we able to differentiate between His voice and that of a stranger? We learn His voice first by learning His Word - His beautiful, powerful, precious Word. It is full of wisdom (Matthew 7:24) and it is the weapon we have been given to fight with (the sword of the Spirit, Ephesians 6:17). It is sweet like honey on our lips (Psalm 119:103), a lamp to our feet and a light to our path (Psalm 119:105). It is Truth - alive and active and everlasting (John 17:17, Hebrews 4:12, Isaiah 40:8). But…if I’m honest…there have been many seasons in motherhood where it has felt so hard to open the Word: when I’m sleep deprived or overwhelmed at all there is to do. When I’m wrestling with the sacrifices required by motherhood or frustrated that I can’t just sit down and read when I want to. And yet…we must fight against this, pressing on and increasing our intake of God’s Word however we are able to in our current season of motherhood (this will definitely take creativity, intentionality and perseverance!). We need his Word, the voice of the Good Shepherd, ESPECIALLY as we run the marathon of motherhood. We need His guidance, comfort and wisdom. We need to be reminded of His promises and Truth. We need to keep growing in His Word because it will never return void: it will produce good fruit in us and through us (Isaiah 55:11). (find practical ideas for turning to the Word in motherhood here) The Good Shepherd also speaks to us through the Holy Spirit, who whispers Truth to us and provides guidance. He is our Comforter and our Advocate, and He reminds us of the words of Jesus (John 14:26, 15:26, 16:13). His voice will never contradict the Word of God. It will never condemn us, but will convict us and lead us back to our Good Shepherd and the flock so that we can live in shalom and safety once more. As we know our Good Shepherd longer and spend more time with Him, His voice will become clearer to us. I admire how one of my sweet mom friends leads her two young children - when they are upset or acting out, she draws them near, takes them away from others present, and whispers to them. She whispers tender words of comfort and reminds them of Truth. This reminds me of how God desires to speak to us - He longs to draw us close, intimately address our specific situations and needs, and remind us of who we are and who He is. The problem is…our world is ever growing more noisy, with voices bombarding us from every direction. There is no lack of “strangers” to follow. And John 10:5 reminds us: we must “run away” from a stranger’s voice, from any voice that is not that of the Good Shepherd! We must tune them out and turn away, trusting in the voice of the Good Shepherd instead. This might look like distancing yourself from social media for a season, or shutting off the show that isn’t benefiting your thought life. This might mean taking a break from your favorite podcasts for a week and listening to God in silence instead (this is my action step! 🙈). This might mean cutting out something in your schedule (even if it is something “good”) so that you have margin to read the Word of God daily. We must habitually make space for time in the Word and silence so that we can listen to Jesus. Only then will we become so intimately familiar with the voice of the Good Shepherd that we flee at the sound of any other voice. As we model this for our children, may they come to see the worth of the Word and the whispers of the Good Shepherd. May we teach them what the Good Shepherd’s voice sounds like so that they can know when to lean in and listen, and when to turn and flee from a stranger’s voice. I’m praying that as you spend time with Jesus this week, you would hear His voice leading you clearly as you run the marathon of motherhood.

“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?” Luke 15:4 Bedtime is when everything can unravel in our home. I am (beyond) done. I have poured out all my reserves, my kids are stalling, and I am counting the minutes until I can take a shower because it’s been too many days (but I won’t disclose how many 😂). And time after time I come to the Father after that blessed shower, after I have snapped at the kids during the bedtime routine, and I just need my Good Shepherd to find me. I just need Him to pursue me and pour out His love on me - to remind me who He is and who I am. And he does - again and again and again (because motherhood is hard….again and again and again). This Good Shepherd finds us, his sheep. He is motivated by Love - there is nothing in this for Him. He pursues us wholeheartedly and is committed to protecting us - his vulnerable, messy, sinful sheep. Shepherding is sourced in love: In A Shepherd’s Look at Psalm 23, Keller describes the motivation of the Good Shepherd this way: “All the care, all the work, all the alert watchfulness, all the skill, all the concern, all the self-sacrifice are born of His love - the love of One who loves His sheep, loves His work, loves His role as a Shepherd” (118). Despite our own weaknesses and neediness, the Good Shepherd does everything possible to take care of us and provide an abundance for us, His sheep. The Good Shepherd works not for personal benefit but rather endures many inconveniences on behalf of his sheep. His sole desire is to protect them, nourish them, and see them flourish and thrive. “All the care…work…alert watchfulness…skill…concern…self-sacrifice…” Does this not sound exactly like motherhood to you? 😂 And in the midst of all that we do and endure for our children it is unbelievably difficult to maintain sight of the grander picture and give continually to our kids out of a place of love. (ESPECIALLY, I would add, in survival-mode seasons or after a rough night of sleep 😴). My tendencies: grumbling, frustration, excessive sighing and selfishness. I am so insufficient in this shepherding business. I need my Good Shepherd to give me a heart of flesh instead of stone (Ezekiel 36:26) - because my heart can harden so quickly when my little lambs are seemingly so needy. I need Him to sustain me by His Spirit and give me what I need for each day (manna) so that I can love my kids. I need Him to remind me of the greater purpose of motherhood, which often feels messy and mundane. I need Him to give me love for this assignment of motherhood so that I take up the task with excitement and gratitude and awe rather than grumbling. And thank goodness He does - He meets us in our lack and finds us in our lostness and supplies for our needs so that we can give our kids just a glimpse of His Greater Love. Shepherding is active, not passive: You can find the shepherd in Luke 15 pacing the pastures, counting the sheep, watching for predators. At all times. I’m imagining this shepherd scarcely sleeping - he is vigilant and watchful. He “goes after” the sheep that is lost “until he finds it.” He is a persistent pursuer, concerned with protecting his sheep from dangers (and from themselves and their own folly). And this is how God, our Good Shepherd, pursues us and our children: with a concern for our wellbeing and a desire to be reunited with us and to restore us to the flock; with urgency and deep concern that motivates him to search for hours “until he finds [us].” How can we pursue our children like our Good Shepherd? We “go after” our sheep through prayer: we intercede for them day and night. We pray for protection over them from the enemy, encircling them in our prayers. We pray for wisdom and discernment to know how to pursue them - to receive insight into their love languages and relational needs so that we can love them how they need to be loved. We pray for their hearts to be soft and receptive towards the things of God. We pray that they would see and know that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. We play offense and defense through our prayers. We also pursue our children “until we find them:” we pursue them through a thousand intentional interactions and conversations. We pursue them even when it feels like we aren’t getting through to them - over years and years of reaching out over and over again. We press on through exhaustion and discouragement and rejection. We persevere. We continue to count our sheep and go after the one who is in a place of lostness or neediness, and we take the initiative to go to them just as our Good Shepherd came to us. This week, may the Good Shepherd show you how He is pursuing you through His love in a myriad of ways that you might have a renewed vision for your assignment of motherhood and energy to extend His pursuing love to your little ones.

“He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young” (Isaiah 40:11). “He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart….” My youngest daughter, Kinley, is extremely maternal - she frequently scoops her babies into her arms and walks around the house shushing them and cuddling them. She will sit silently and hold them for minutes at a time, focused on the task of caring for her little ones. The Good Shepherd is like this - He has a special place for the lambs - “close to his heart.” He is a tender-hearted Shepherd, and the littlest ones are precious to him. He is focused on their well-being, caring for them in such a way that they will thrive. This gentle nature of our Good Shepherd encourages me: I can entrust my kids into His care. He holds them, He knows them, He made them. He alone is aware of all of their needs before they even ask. May we release the responsibility of carrying all of the needs and wants of our children on our shoulders - the Good Shepherd carries our kids close to his heart and He will provide for them. We can also draw our children close to our hearts as the Good Shepherd does - listening to them, creating distraction-free spaces where we can learn how they are really doing. I imagine this kind of “gathering” and “carrying close” will look different for each child and will change with age, but I believe they will always need this kind of attentive care from us. One of my daughters said to me last week, “I feel like you aren’t spending enough time with me” - ouch!!! 😭 That hurt to hear - but after taking her on a date on Saturday I feel that I was able to draw her close, and I pray it made her feel cared for and seen! 🙏🏻💕 “…He gently leads those that have young” The Good Shepherd leads us….gently. US - the mothers, “those that have young” - He is gentle with us, not harsh or critical. Do you believe that? He looks at you with eyes full of grace and compassion. He has a special concern for you, and knows you need to be led gently on this marathon of motherhood. What a relief, what a gift, that our Good Shepherd would lead us with such tenderness at a pace we can manage. And not only is He gentle, but He leads us. He will never leave us behind - He will always lead us. We don’t have to know the way because He knows the way (and He IS The Way). A shepherd uses his staff to guide his sheep - Keller lays it out like this in A Shepherd’s Look at Psalm 23: “Again and again, I have seen a shepherd use his staff to guide his sheep gently into a new path or through some gate or along dangerous, difficult routes. He does not use it to actually beat the beast. Rather, the tip of the long slender stick is laid gently against the animal’s side, and the pressure applied guides the sheep in the way the owner wants it to go. Thus the sheep is reassured of its proper path.” (86). The Good Shepherd guides us by His Spirit, lovingly and clearly providing direction to ensure that we go the way we are supposed to. The Spirit is our Comforter, our Wonderful Counselor, our Advocate - gently leading us through this life and along our journeys of motherhood. The nature of our Good Shepherd reminds me to lead my children gently - not with harshness or pride, not with anger or intimidation. We must allow ourselves to be led by the Good Shepherd that we might lead with a spirit of gentleness. I have found that the measure of grace I have for myself is often the measure of grace I will extend to my children - am I being gracious and gentle with myself in this season? Am I receiving the grace of God that I might extend it to my kids? We can be gracious with our kids because God has been gracious to us. We can draw our kids close because we have been held by God Himself. We cannot expect too much from these little lambs or drive them too hard, but rather we can offer to them what we have received from God - this gentle care coupled with leadership and guidance. I’m so thankful that our Good Shepherd is gentle and compassionate with us. May our mothering reflect this gracious and careful leadership that we might lead our lambs straight into His arms.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will not fear because you are with me…” Psalm 23:4 My middle child is currently my clingy one, holding onto my legs while I make dinner, asking me to accompany her everywhere (including to the bathroom) - “Come with me!” is her constant cry. And it’s easy for me to become irritated at this (“Josie, you can go to the bathroom by yourself!”), but I think her desire speaks to the need in all of us for the presence of one that makes us feel safe and seen. Psalm 23 can feel like a lullaby - it’s beautiful, calming, but also so familiar that it’s easy to miss its meaning. This psalm gives us this picture of God as our Shepherd - providing sustenance, rest, guidance, protection, and blessing. But the heartbeat of the poem is what lies at the very center, with 26 Hebrew words falling before and after it: “for Thou art with me.” The Good Shepherd’s presence is the punch line of this psalm, and this makes everything else in the psalm matter: God is with us - He provides His Presence, His very self. In A Shepherd’s Look at Psalm 23, author Philip Keller discusses how his presence impacted his sheep: “I came to realize that nothing so quieted and reassured the sheep as to see me in the field. The presence of their master and owner and protector put them at ease as nothing else could, and this applied day and night” (25). He then goes on to compare this to our experience as followers of the Good Shepherd: “In the Christian’s life there is no substitute for the keen awareness that our Shepherd is nearby. There is nothing like Christ’s presence to dispel the fear, the panic, the terror of the unknown…His presence in the picture throws a different light on the whole scene” (26). The Presence of the Good Shepherd changes everything. He provides us with everything we need, but the provision of His Presence is what leaves a lasting impact on us, His sheep, settling us and setting us apart from the sheep in any other shepherd’s pasture. And so in light of God being this Good Shepherd who provides His presence, I’m asking myself: what kind of presence am I for my children? How does my presence make them feel? How does it change the atmosphere of my home? How will they remember my presence? And I’m realizing that the extent to which I have been present with the Good Shepherd is the extent to which I will be present in the way I want to be for my children: peaceful, not anxious. Joyful, not despairing. Grateful, not grumbling. Patient, not hurrying. Humble, not haughty. Self-controlled, not angry. Kind, not critical. We must cling to the Good Shepherd so that we can be reassured and refreshed by His presence - only then will our presence bless and benefit our kids in the way we so desire. We must live in the range of His shadow and in reach of His staff, that His Presence might transform the way that we are present in our homes, our marriages, our workplaces, and our world. How our anxious and broken world is desperate for the presence of those who have been marked by the Presence of the Good Shepherd! May we be the clingiest of sheep in the pasture - greedy for the Presence of the Good Shepherd to surround us and transform us. And may our presence mirror His Presence - providing a safe place for our children and blessing them in ways that they will not soon forget.

“For ‘you were like sheep going astray,’....” (1 Peter 2:25) I see how my kids are like sheep, these little lambs: prone to wander and stray, struggling to obey. Completely dependent on me to provide for them, to guide them, to lead them and love them. And how I wish I could outgrow being a “sheep” - I’m a mom, after all, in charge of these little humans, and I’m mature, right?! 😂 - but the truth is, I am prone to all the same things. I am stubborn and easily afraid, frequently wandering and losing my way. I am easily distracted and sometimes disobedient. And if I’m honest, a lot of the time I have no idea how to lead these little lambs that have been left in my care. And Lent finds us here: wandering like sheep gone astray, weary of winter, trying to find meaning between the joy of the Christmas season and the allure of summer fun. And the Good Shepherd doesn’t leave us here, but holds out His hand, offering to lead the way. Through this season of Lent, He reminds us of who we are and who He is and how He wants to shepherd us, if only we will let Him. He wants to show us we can trust Him completely - this Good Shepherd who carries us and cares deeply, who is always with us, who sees us and knows us and loves us. A Shepherd’s Look at Psalm 23 is this beautiful little book providing a new perspective on the well-known psalm, and it lends us insight into image of us as sheep and God as our Shepherd: “Sheep can, under mismanagement, be the most destructive livestock. In short order they can ruin and ravage land almost beyond remedy. But in bold contrast they can, on the other hand, be the most beneficial of all livestock if properly managed” (119). Author W. Phillip Keller also emphasizes, “Under one man sheep would struggle, starve and suffer endless hardship. In another’s care they would flourish and thrive contentedly” (4). It is only under the Good Shepherd’s care that we will thrive, not just survive. It is only under His care that we will be healthy and whole, leaving a wake of blessing wherever we go - both as mothers and beyond that as women of God. We must make this conscious choice to come under the leadership of the Good Shepherd, recognizing and receiving His provision and guidance and care that we might be properly fit to feed our own lambs, to shepherd the sheep that He has given us to steward for a season. In the following weeks, we will take a look at the Good Shepherd throughout Scripture and consider how we can learn from Him, lean into His guidance and lead our children like He leads us. I pray this series will encourage you and point you to Him as we approach the glory of Easter Morning. “For ‘you were like sheep going astray,’ but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls” (1 Peter 2:25) - these next weeks of Lent, may we return to our Good Shepherd, allowing Him to shepherd us so that we can learn how to best lead our sheep.

"Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 Discontentment is an ever-present temptation, a constant threat. It lurks around the corner of every transition and casts a shadow on every season of motherhood. It follows me through every stage and circumstance, tapping me on the shoulder. "The grass is greener on the other side," it whispers. Discontentment perpetuates this scarcity mindset within me, "There's not enough for me." It convinces me that I am a victim and celebrates with me as I throw yet another pity party. Discontentment turns my head in the direction of other moms, encouraging me to compare every part of my life to theirs. It lures my eyes away from what is true and present and real, prompting me to imagine what could be or what would've been. Discontentment is a potent poison and a tactic of the enemy - to steal joy, to kill hope, to destroy abundant life (John 10:10). We must instead contend for contentment - receiving what He has given instead of refusing to "rejoice always." As much as we'd like to think otherwise, true contentment is not a product of circumstance but rather perspective. Contentment is the only way to circumvent our circumstances - allowing us to experience joy and peace despite what what is going on around us. It is the great secret of the Christian mom - that in spite of hardship, weakness, sleep deprivation, limitations, work schedules or physical pain, we could still, somehow, supernaturally, be content and "count it all joy" (James 1:2). For this is God's will for you: not a particular career path or life decision, but to "rejoice always, pray continually, and give thanks in all circumstances." The antidote to the poison of discontentment is praise - placing all of our value and worth in Jesus instead of in what this world has to offer. Rejoicing and praying and pressing forward in gratitude despite how we might feel. Praise is the weapon we must wield against the daggers of discontentment. This is going to take practice - it is not going to come naturally to us. Learning contentment is a process as day by day, hour by hour, we learn to depend on Jesus instead of allowing ourselves to be blown and tossed by the waves of our surroundings. It is as Paul shares in his letter to the Philippians: "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength." (Philippians 4:12-13). Paul learned contentment through complete dependence on God and His strength. He encountered many difficult circumstances as he followed Jesus - his contentment was not found in comfort or ease. It was in Paul's lack and weakness that he found contentment, discovering God to be strong enough and sufficient for him. Contentment is something worth contending for - that our children and the world might see the goodness of God through us: our gratitude, our joy, our peace, our contentment in Him. May we find satisfaction in Jesus, even in the struggles that each season of motherhood brings, as we depend fully on Him. And at the end of the day, may be able to say along with Paul: "I can do all this through him who gives me strength."

The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. Isaiah 40:8 The very act of opening your Bible in the morning, for a moment or two or as much time as your little ones allow - it is a simple decision that can change the course of your day, the direction of your gaze. But it can feel so hard in the moment - like swimming upstream, fighting the current. This Book is your very life and breath and daily bread. It is the Source that will sustain you in the mundane of this season. It is the Sword of the Spirit, alive and active, dividing soul and spirit, bone and marrow. Your weapon to wield and words that will heal. It is timely and timeless, eternal and true. Honey on your lips and a light for your path. But....it feels hard. We are busy and bruised and barely making it through the day. Our children are clinging and needing and wanting and we are but one person, trying to hold a home together… The enemy will resist you daily - it will seem that there are a million things that need to be done in that moment when you open the Word of God. Your motivation will wane and your mind will wander and he will do whatever it takes to pull you away. For the sake of yourself and your little ones, stay the course. Open the Book - you need this more than life itself. More than breath. With all that motherhood is pulling out of you, you need to be steeped in this Book of Life - the only words that will stand to the very end. You will find the wisdom, energy and hope for your day there. Just ask Him - you will. Jesus, may your Word be my delight. May I rejoice in your Word. May I read it, sing it, meditate on it day and night. Your Word will never return void, and so whatever time I spend in it will never be wasted. It will produce good and beautiful things in me and through me - more than I could ever dream or imagine. And so may I cling to your Word. What a privilege to own a copy, to be able to open it freely. What a gift - this access to listen, to learn, to linger in your word. May I not take it for granted, but rather take advantage of every opportunity to soak in this gift - the very word of God given to us. "Open my eyes that I may see wonderful things in your law" (Psalm 119:18).

"For when you are weak, then you are strong." 2 Corinthians 12:10 The world will call weakness your enemy. In a culture that promotes strength and independence in a variety of forms, we are called to hide our fragility and project an image of perfection and poise. God frames weakness in an entirely different way - as a gift, a friend, a privilege. Weakness is your friend. Your limitations, your hardship, your struggles, your sleeplessness - they are a gift from God. They are handpicked for you - this loving God bestowing brokenness as gift, as grace - “For when you are weak, then you are strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10). Weakness drives you to your knees, on your face before the God who sees. And He responds with gentleness and compassion: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (v. 9). Weakness reminds you where your true treasure lies: in the hope of heaven. It protects you from pride and prevents you from believing that you are self-sufficient. Weakness drives you to your knees, keeps you bending low and depending instead of pretending you have it all under control. Weakness relocates your gaze from the mirror to His eyes. So may we cease fighting against our weaknesses, striving for independence and projecting an image of strength. May we stop despising weakness and start delighting in it. For “God uses the weak things of the world to shame the strong” that we might boast in Him alone (1 Corinthians 1:27). May Christ’s power rest on us to strengthen and shelter us in the midst of our wrestling with weakness. He will not waste any of our weakness as we hand it to Him. We may even begin to see it as it is - friend, not foe.